


What they do

by DatNewBee



Category: Thor (Movies), Thor - All Media Types
Genre: !!!!!, Abuse, Addiction, Anal Sex, Angst and Fluff and Smut, Awesome Fandral, Bitch Sif, Blackmail, Brother/Brother Incest, Drama, Dubiously Consensual Blow Jobs, Erotic Poetry, Falling In Love, Feels, Gender Issues, Hurt/Comfort, Implied/Referenced Suicide, Loki basically gets loads of blowjobs he never asked for, M/M, Mental Breakdown, Odin's A+ Parenting, Painful Sex, Panic Attacks, Poor!Issues!Badass!Twisted!Adorable!Sub!Loki, Porn With Plot, Possessive Behavior, Protective Frigga, Psychological Drama, Rape/Non-con Elements, Self-Hatred, Selfish!Brute!Stupid!Possessive!Protective!Dom!Thor, Sexual Politics, Size Kink, Too many feels, Twisted, Weird Plot Shit, and it all has a deeper meaning, because Thor seriously needs some help
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-09-11
Updated: 2018-01-07
Packaged: 2018-02-17 00:07:58
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 39
Words: 161,599
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2289731
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DatNewBee/pseuds/DatNewBee
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p><br/>"I love you", Thor breathes.<br/>"I hate you", Loki lies.</p><p>Thor is suddenly frightened by the thought of becoming king. For the day of coronation draws nearer he desperately needs some comfort and security. Being a grown up man he's too ashamed of his fears to turn to anyone but Loki.<br/>Loki, though, seems to be a bit unsettled by what his elder brother asks of him ... not to mention that what starts out weird yet innocent quickly grows into one serious, dramatic matter throwing the princes into whirls of sins and secrets far out of both their hands.</p><p>  <b>In which Thor and Loki are unblameably perverted and mentally kind of instable.</b><br/> <br/>.<br/>.<br/>.<br/><br/>NOTE that I deem chapter 2-7 in URGENT, chapter 8-13 in MEDIUM and chapter 14-17 in TEENSY need for artistic rework.<br/>Because they are quite old and so anus quality that they make me cringe all the time. They ARE enjoyable as is. But I am a perfectionist and GHA, just hope you read the story anyway. <i>I love you if you do.</i></p>
            </blockquote>





	1. How did this happen?

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Sigynthefaithful](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sigynthefaithful/gifts), [gaelis](https://archiveofourown.org/users/gaelis/gifts), [MagdalenaCS](https://archiveofourown.org/users/MagdalenaCS/gifts), [Mizu63](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Mizu63/gifts), [Akira_kun17](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Akira_kun17/gifts), [Leytr](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Leytr/gifts), [OldDarling1](https://archiveofourown.org/users/OldDarling1/gifts).



 

 

 

A helpless moan escapes Loki's open mouth as his body curls around his brother's large, blond head resting in his lap. Lips wet from constant licking he dips the tip of his tongue in nervous motions back and forth like trying to ease his breaths the way out of his tightening throat with it. But that won't help him much; Thor's at a perfect and perfectly agonizing leisure with Loki again and lies all content there while his little brother can't but twitch and squirm.

How strange they look like this, rolled up on their sides all clothed in the crinkled bedsheets and most oddly intertwined. They could face each other if they wouldn't lie in such a constellation, yet their bodies nuzzle not eye to eye into one another but where Loki's knees press hard into Thor's chest and where …

And where it slurps and _gulps_ and -

Another shock of dizziness makes Loki's whole body pulse with heat forcing him to gasp and whimper out like in pain. But he manages to not move his hips, not much at least.

Absently Thor means to pat the small of Loki's back in praise but he rather ends up fondling his bottom where he had his lazy paw hung anyway.

Loki blushes from the embarrassingly lauding attention spared on his efforts and secretly curses himself for joining this weird game of theirs at all; not that such touches held any greater symbolism to them anymore. Yet still. With a frown tearing at his glowing forehead he bites his tongue to keep from groaning. His heart tumbles some weird dance far too close to his throat.

How come he loves and hates this so - he can not even once say no to it?

_How did this happen?_

This is what Loki wonders ever since this deviant habit wormed its twisted way between the brothers, sticking them together like glue. And ALL Nine, really, how did it? Not due to one of his sneaky tricks, his in each and every realm unmatched pranks or his sometimes unusual strategies on reaching one of his secret goals. Loki did not enchant Thor into this, nor did the golden prince of Asgard lose an unfair bet against his rascal brother. No. It just happened. Utterly unforeseen. And still the Trickster hasn't managed to bring it under the control of any explanation he'd possibly come up with. He doesn't understand it, especially because it's not just one of those awkward mistakes you stumble into trying once and then some day even forget about. _This_ always happens _again_. Loki is no one to let anything just happen in his life - nothing but this. And so each time it feeds a distant panic in the back of his mind.

Thor meanwhile remains peacefully calm, eyes closed with lazy pleasure, as he suckles his brother's nearly begging flesh that juts out from his undone trouser flap. Loki throws his head into his neck, choking on another whine, as Thor shoves his nose under that green tunic and digs his face into the white belly beneath, swallowing Loki whole. The air blown from the sleepy Thunderer's nostrils that lie pressed to slits right now dampens all spots of skin that it strokes, leaving a wet, hot coating there. Whenever Thor decides to stretch one of his strongest gulps down his throat his shameless mouth smacks utmost slick noises.

This is what they do.

When Thor noticed the craving for the first time he secretly started to suck his own thumb. Gingerly so, because wasn't that strange at his age? But he found he couldn't leave it be, he _had_ to suck something. It worked this deeply appeasing effect on him.

Actually Thor noticed the craving only after he noticed that subliminal anxiety under his skin, lingering and growing in his guts whenever he's met with greater crowds expecting something, _whatever,_ he can't quite ever really guess what, from him. Especially so since that day father had so proudly announced that his firstborn's time to finally be king was nigh: All Asgard had exulted from full throats – to then go still, waiting for Thor to speak. Thor had always been used to father doing the speeches. He'd always just won battles for Asgard and smiled his sassy smile at the people. They had been satisfied with it. Well, until _then_.

He felt his face grow itchy hot that instant he realized he was to say something substantial. And he could painfully feel mother's patient glances in his back as his frozen grin lasted … and lasted. Sif rolled her eyes at his slow wits. And dear, Loki had actually cut his own record in cocking his brows: they'd completely disappeared under his helmet.

Having always tended to rash actions Thor eventually swung out Mjolnir to the skies and let out a triumphant cry as his bluest thunderbolt pierced first through the roof of the palace and then the clouds and beyond. And yes, admittedly, he earned himself the usual applause mixed with highly amused laughter. But part of him knew that this could not forever be his answer to people looking up at him. He hadn't ever felt that unable to cope and that _stupid_ before. And never again did he find himself fit to walk by the throne without shivering to his very core.

So the thumb was a sweet, sweet thing to help him relieve some of this unknown angst stress haunting him. Whenever he found himself uneasy he searched a moment of privacy and suckled til his pulse slowed down. It calmed him for some time. But soon enough he got obsessional with it, his patience dwindling more and more, and he excused himself repeatedly from friends and feasts and councils to find a dark corner somehow, somewhere, and once he even ended up sucking his thumb under some bushes in the royal parks.

But it came as it had to in the end: Thor got used to it and wouldn't find much comfort in the lonely act anymore. He was forlorn when he realized he longed for someone else's skin to calm him: Body contact was what he needed. Like frightened children need it, too.

Not that he somehow thought about it all – he only felt that urge without really knowing nor wanting to know why.

However, there was that time when he was not able to look his mother in the eyes without flushing in shame of his hidden need. He thought she might see. He hoped he'd possibly be strong enough to get rid of it if only he'd resist long enough. But in vain. And then some day he desperately craved anyone to lay his mouth upon whether he didn't want to jump right at his mothers tits: An impossible thing for a grown up man.

He turned to Sif. But he didn't dare to tell her. She hadn't ever been the understanding type if it came to weaknesses. Maybe it would have been the easiest way out into finally sating his desire with getting himself a nice whore asking no questions. But Thor couldn't. Not that he hadn't ever had one, this just was a different story; this was not for fun, he needed some degree of empathy and nearness.

And so he turned to Loki.

His brother had always been situated somewhat outside of the universe which Thor craved to escape. A constantly roaming flibbertigibbet but at the same time _the_ unchanging pole in Thor's life. Loki was isolated, secretive and private. And for his obviously unmanly attitudes possibly the only one to ever _understand_.

Not that Thor thought too much about any of it – he just, well. He was a big, desperate ball of instincts.

They were out alone that summer evening. The sun had nearly set above the lonely backyard they had strolled out to. Everything glowed with the final, orange fire of the day; the wall they leaned against, the broad, slow river flowing west before their eyes, the ugly moorhens that were such nice targets to throw pebbles at as they tumbled back and forth on the water. No greater feast was grinding the kingdom jolly and the taverns lay far off and left to slur their lazy songs without the golden prince for once. Yes, Thor and Loki were out throwing pebbles at moorhens in peaceful, cozy brotherhood. Nothing that uncommon for the two of them, even if they'd done this far more often in their childhood.

However, this time they were … alone in a somewhat different manner, as Loki was soon to discover.

„What are you doing“, he chuckled when Thor suddenly grabbed for his hand, “hindering me won't make your strike rate better! Aim, you fool!”

But as he found himself caught in his brother's grip he gulped and his knuckles twitched in the pressure squeezing them around the nother stone he had not been able to throw. Loki's face froze into a questioning stare. He had not stolen anything late off nor fingered whatsoever wicked hex or crime – there was no obvious need, really, to crush his tools of mischief. When he'd deserve it he'd get kicked in the ass by his brother for it, sure. But cracking his twigs because he had more aim in his pinkie than Thor in his two arms?

Thor for his part did not let go; He scowled down to his fist and breathed like something heavy tugged at his lungs. Each heartbeat keeping Loki's fingers in his nervously forcing palm made them feel warmer and damper, fitting the orange blaze thrown at them from all sides. Thor sucked his tongue. His knees felt weak.

“Might I ask you something, brother?”

“Uhm … what is it?”

Thor huffed. And stuttered right away: „I have always longed to be king, Loki. But now – I mean, look, it is so soon! I don't know how to”, _I don't even know what I don't know how to_ , he opened his passionate grip, kneaded Loki's thumb and pulled it up - a pebble fell to the dusty ground, “and I need, I – I'm tense all the time and … ?”

Thor was afraid. The mighty Thor stood horrified beside his younger, weaker, paler brother and trembled. There were thrones and crowds and failures tearing at his mind again. And to top it all now the impossible thought of being denied understanding and his only cure!

When the words failed him actions took over his body as they always do. He launched himself on what he craved. And suddenly found Loki's thumb tightly sucked into his mouth.

Loki was startled enough to grant Thor a moment to glory in the awkward touch. But the tongue moving along his skin had him hysterical soon enough. He tore himself free and let out a sound as he staggered away. Thor flinched at the brusque turn.

When their eyes met it could not ever have felt weirder – this was so ridiculous Loki should have laughed! But somehow he didn't feel much like laughing.

“Are you kidding me?” His voice cracked.

Then Thor, angrily grinding his teeth, abruptly turned on his heel and stomped away without a word. Loki could only stare into his back until he was around a corner. The evening was quiet in that way that nearly screams. Only the moorhens dared to cackle at the princes who had teased them long enough.

Thor came back for it, though. The very next day. With a suspicious look in his eyes. He cleared his throat all too obviously as he shut the portals of Loki's private chambers.

Loki was sure by now that he'd been victimized by a prank gone wrong thought out by who knew which of Thor's glorious friends – Fandral probably – believing the throne heir's ever so dodgy trickster brother had finally needed a revenge. Thor'd lost a bet for sure (because bets excluding muscles have never been his strength) and found himself bound to play along or something the like. And he didn't seem to avow himself beaten yet. The jerk.

They talked, both hesitant and testing. Or rather they actually pussyfooted around. Loki sat in his armchair, pretending to read and never looking up from his book as he had so far successfully refused to bless the oafhead with his welcomes.

He was the one to get impatient first, though, as Thor just _couldn't_ get to the point of things. And so, pissy as he was, Loki put his book aside and ended this childish game of verbal to and fro with a challenge SO absurd that it made perfectly clear how little he intended to get spoofed. And he already felt spoofed enough. He really did.

„Do as you wish, brother, but not with my thumb.“

Impudently he spread his legs and tried to hide a smirk when red hot anger flushed Thor's face at the subtext dawning on him moments later. Loki cupped the armrests with his palms to make clear his fingers were out of this game. That had him only intensify the very much amusing effect on his bulky brother: Nine and Hel, what treasures had Fandral promised him or what would he have lost in this wager? The Thunderer blushed in dangerous shades of crimson now, displeased at its best, as he seemed to urgently need Loki voluntarily letting himself be suckled like an udder. Thor bristled. But as long as no threatening lightning bolts raped the skies Loki licked his lips and grinned.

_Not on my charge, dear._

Alas, he was not to triumph for too long.

It was downright surreal when the golden prince, Loki's ever shining brother good-enough-and-better, shadowcaster by high birth, mortifyer by mere presence, well, that very brute born to rule the WORLD, damn it, knelt down between Loki's thighs: When Thor reached for the belt in front of him with an all too serious scowl on his face Loki was unable to see clear. All just blurred out. The last thing his eyes really caught was his buckle being seized by bulky, impatient fingers before he glimpsed away, brain swimming. When he felt a pull around his hips as Thor overpowered the leather thong holding his trousers in place Loki couldn't do more but puff out an awkward, tiny whoop. And then, well … then.

Well.

They didn't talk about it once the deed was done. Which was done embarrassingly soon with a cough from Loki's mouth and a gulping sound sliding down Thor's. Thor stood up, cleared his throat (and at this Loki could have gagged, actually, if he hadn't arched his neck back so hard to haggardly blink up at the ceiling) and left his brother alone, glowing dizzy with shame.

What had just occurred between them was so plainly _wrong_ it didn't even feel like anything had happened at all. But of course it happened again. Loki didn't stop it because, really, it was NOT happening, was it? He couldn't fight what he could not, not in a thousand years, grasp as real.

Once it was at least a modicum of real, however, it already was habit.

When they were new to it Thor was content with less than he felt he needed. He didn't take it _all_ at first and not as long as he might have liked to, but he ventured to have little bits of more each time. He was just shy and Loki perturbed. But feeling skin against his tongue, even if just a peak of it, reminded him so fondly of the long lost times when little Thor, whenever he was scared, would run right to his mother dear to be embraced and comforted by her warm bosom's milk.

Loki has no milk, of course, but what he has is warm. This is enough for Thor to drink it. It's more than any thumb would grant.

Loki comes with a yelp today, eyes glistening, brows climbing up above them like reaching out for heaven. Where's the ceiling, where the floor? For a shattered heartbeat long he doesn't know.

The meltdown leaves his skin prickling like a thin, electrified shell completely emptied of its core. He feels he could break at each further touch and pants his breath only with troubles back to normal. Slowly his body becomes flesh and bone again, though, warm, quivering, and slacks into the gracious slumber of the aftermath. But he doesn't fall asleep.

He knows that Thor's not had enough yet.

Sinking his soft, pale cheek deeper into his pillows Loki lets his weary eyes wander down to where his brother's golden hair blocks the sight to what he can still dimly hear and feel. The heat. The … _undertow_ , if one could call it that way, pulling even his last drops out of him that it feels like a hair fine thread drawn through his flesh. That mouth claiming him whole.

His chest heaving still Loki eventually shuts his eyes and starts to stroke his brother's scalp. Somehow Thor feels so needy under his fingertips. So indescribably vulnerable with that thick, shatterproof, stubborn head. It's just not - Loki doesn't dare to listen down into his strangely numb thoughts tangled around what things he just allows his brother once again. But that one question won't be still. It never is.

_How did this happen?_

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Lovely folks, know that this first chapter is a REWRITTEN version of the waaaaay back original from 2014 and thus it speaks now in the current voice this fic has developed over the year(s). Don't cringe too much if chapter two will feel like a terrible contrast to this, please - hold on, read on. IT'LL GET BETTER SOON ENOUGH, I PROMISE.  
> Maybe in time I'll even rewrite some more of the oldies here - yet until then: enjoy the queer ride as it is!


	2. Disadvantage

 

 

Loki does enjoy it. Bodily he does. And how could he not? What they do is a most penetrating and forceful push into his very inborn lusts. How could anyone not enjoy or even resist it? It isn't his fault. Thor hustles him into it and doesn't really leave him any choice.

But still there is that guilty shame. He keeps telling himself _this was the last time_. But it never is.

Loki is not to move an inch when they do it. Which is extremely exhausting. This is one point which always forbids him to give in completely. But Thor doesn't like him bucking his hips into his face. Once he got really angry and bit him. Loki lost a yell at this so loud that Fandral made jokes of him the morning after. What in All Nine he did would he ask. Would everyone ask.

„I got hurt in a kind of accident“, Loki said. And when he didn't want to show the wound which had made him squeal like a stabbed swine they assumed that it must sit in a pretty explicit place and laughed at him. Thor laughed, too.

Loki didn't want to let Thor suck him ever again then. But he found that he wasn't able to reject his brother. He wanted so bad to make at least a point, though: „You want me not to move. Good. Then don't make me beg for it.“ But he remained silent. He'd have to admit then how needy he melted in Thors touch. And when he remembered that what they do was a sexual experience for him alone he felt the shame again. So he started to push himself to severe self control and tried to learn how to bear his brothers agonizingly slow tongue without losing his mind.

However, total self-control is a lesson Loki has not yet perfectly mastered.

Thor is in his lap again. Loki sits in his armchair like he did the first time, his back relaxed but his hands cramping into the armrests. Thor doesn't kneel on the floor now. He's got himself a stool. Bent forward and neck stretched the left side of his face weighs upon his brothers upper leg. Lokis head is leaning back, facing the ceiling. For midday is bright he could beautifully watch. But he never does.

This time he wants to come silently. No sound shall make its way out of his throat. All unaffected and above it. Only once Loki wants to be the one who doesn't need this. When they got used to it Loki knew that he would always be at a disadvantage. Thor may want it but he could stop at any point. Loki could not.

He tries so bad to kill off even tiniest sighs with slugging them down that he doesn't realize when he starts to hold his breath. As his head gets heavy he closes his eyes and doesn't notice how dizzy he really feels. That fire crawling up his stomach makes him dim with sweat. He pulses angrily in his brothers mouth. But he knows he'll be done soon, he'll be done all quiet and dignified.

And then Thors teeth brush hard across that cursed vein Loki always knew as one of his softest spots. A flash of whitehot appetite jerks through his loins and up his spine. He cannot keep his chest from rearing up. Abruptly he feels his lungs ache so bad that he needs to pant for air. That sweetly painful gasp breaking out of him ruins every torturing second of reservation he managed to pull through so far.

_Failed._

As he looks down into the peaceful face of his brother he wants to slap it. Thor doesn't even seem to notice how he struggles under his touch.

Suddenly he feels the heavy urge to vomit as his eyes focus on the point where his sore hard length disappears in Thors red and swollen lips. They glisten with spittle as they cozily slip around his overstrained skin. Up. Down. So very slightly up and down. One time he glimpses the tip of Thors tongue slip out from under his lower lip. And that sight shoots his pulse up to race in his temples. The sounds are suddenly too much.

Loki lets his head fall back again, his neck too weak to support it. He gives up trying to be still and soughs in fierce resignation, every breath a liberated sound. This letting go is finally enough.

It is as it always is with Thor; Loki will never be the stronger one.

 


	3. A persistent and generous maiden

 

 

„Silvertongue seems to be having lots of sex lately, hu?“ Fandral quickly licks his lips and leers as he talks to Thor in an absurdly banal tone. The Warriors Three, the prince and, what now starts to feel kinda awkward, Lady Sif are outside and on their sunny way to the palace.

Thor turns his head around in shock. Not for he feels involved in the brought up affair. He's actually pretty good at forgetting that he very much is. But the simple fact that Fandral doesn't even bother to lower his voice to a whisper appalls him. Sif wrinkles her nose in disgust at the said words.

„What?“ Thor cannot think of any other reaction to this.

„Come on“, Fandral continues, „there were some noises to be heard around his chambers. Don't act like you didn't notice, he's your brother in the end! I think it's pretty odd. I would never have thought of Loki having sex at all!“

„Fandral!“, Sif threatens. But he just smiles and skillfully sidesteps her elbow. Thor hopes his friend will drop the subject now. He really doesn't want to talk behind Lokis back.

But the warrior continues recklessly: „Yesterday I saw him through his window.“

 _Yesterday._ At this word Thor suddenly feels sick. The world starts to turn around slowly. _I've been with him yesterday._

„You know that one tower? The roof I use to climb up? With a fine spyglass one has a very pretty sight there down into some very exquisite chambers. And their indwellers, of course. I was out to see some of Asgards prettiest ladies … oh, don't you shoot me that glance, Hogun, you know that I do such things“, he laughs. „well, I WAS there for the ladies … but then I noticed some floors above the one I use to observe that Loki was sitting in a chair near the window ...“

Thor stumbles but manages to keep himself from falling over. Volstagg laughs and pats his broad shoulder, but nor does he really hear nor feel it. A panic makes Thor numb and deaf.

„... and he was obviously occupied in something very dirty. All open mouthed, rolling his eyes ...“

„FANDRAL!“ This time she strikes him.

"OUCH! Oh well! Well, at first I thought he – leave it, Sif! - at first I thought the little bastard's doing himself. But his hands were far from his – ah, you know what I mean. Don't get me wrong now if I tell you that I badly cricked my neck whilst trying to get a better view of him.“

"Oh, you sicko!“

„What? I was just SO curious to find out who else was with him then!“

 _All Nine, this doesn't happen!_ Thor cannot keep from giving a loud and horrified groan. Could Fandral have seen him? Would he dare unmask him in public? He must stop this! He must! But how shall he do anything but wonder how he is still walking with his knees trembling like this?

„Be cool, Thor, it's alright,“ Fandral mocks. „Your baby brother's growing up.“ Volstagg gives a most compassionate sigh. „Okay, now all I could see was the very top of a shiny golden haired crest between the little fuckers legs. But that's something, isn't it? I would have loudly congratulated him if the distance hadn't been that far!“ And the Warriors Three boom their manliest laughs. Thor wants to throw up in relief. _And I thought_... then he laughs, too. Louder than he should.

„I turned my eyes away then. I really did. But some time after, it must have been an hour or more, you know, some of these ladies do take their time with combing their hair, I stood up to get on my way back down. It was then that I glanced over to Loki and his mysterious visitor one last time. And guess what my unbelieving eyes witnessed: They were still pretty much on it. Same position, nothing had changed. Except for the little fact that Silvertongue seemed to be a tiny bit swamped by the service! You SHOULD have seen his face!“

Their cackling grows harder and even louder this time. Sif contributes a disgusted moan.

„I just WONDER who she is“, Fandral rounds off. „Such a persistent and generous maiden! Blond, okay, that doesn't give away too much yet. But I'd really love to know who she is!“

And Thors laughter abruptly dies out.

 


	4. Swamped

 

 

When Thor is in his own rooms that night he sits brooding on the edge of his bed. His brows dig deep and angry lines into the skin above his nose. Fandrals words haunt him like a deadly echo that just won't fade. He feels like waking from a dream into a nightmare.

 _'I saw him.'_ That is a threat. An unmistakable danger. What they do is their secret and theirs alone! It mustn't get public. Why did he turn to Loki in the first line? Because he knew that no one else in Asgard would understand.

How could he be so careless? Thor is mad at himself that he possibly forgot how easily their secret would be snatched by the others if they weren't cautious, and by this he means ALL the others, all those he is cursed to rule and to lead far too soon. Oh, the fear! Unintendedly he thrusts his thumb into his mouth and fiercely suckles it.

If the others ever knew … they would see it in a perverted way. They would never understand.

 _'I wonder who she is.'_ Fandral will always be on the hunt for that maiden now. Thor knows his friend all too good. And SHE? Thor feels shamefully reduced by the thought of being mistaken for a, how did he say, 'persistent and generous' woman. Of course, that is the only logical solution for his friend to come up with ... little as he saw. But still. The future king of Asgard – A WHORE?

 _'Dirty. Sex. Loki having sex.'_ Thor gulps. _With me._

But that isn't true, is it? Thor has sex with Sif. But not with Loki. It's an innocent need which urges him to his brother over and over again. He never saw it in any other light and will always refuse to. Sure, he could have turned to Lokis thumb again after that first time, that time when he accepted Lokis challenge to demonstrate his earnestness. But he grew fond of it that way. And he cannot drink from a thumb, can he?

Loki may come even more than once every time they do it … but that doesn't make it any kind of dirty. It's no sex, it's just what they do. Loki is devotional. Loki selflessly understands it. He sacrifices all his pride for Thor.

But …

 _'Swamped.'_ It cannot be that he, Thor, while enjoying his inculpable need for security, is actually making his brother have a weird and uncomfortable kind of sex with him, can it? Loki doesn't see it that way. He cannot possibly feel abused?

Thor holds his breath. So many thoughts! He is not used to thinking all too much. His head starts aching and the helplessness pulls violently at his nerves. The fear is back once more but it grew stronger and stranger somewhen while he was brooding. It doesn't only focus on the throne now. It doesn't refer to anything anymore, it refers to everything.

What were his last thoughts? There was a question. And another...

 _No. No to everything. It's all not true._ Thor slips his thumb out of his mouth and jumps to his feet. He knows what he needs now.

Silently he creeps across the dark and lonely hallways up to Lokis chambers. The way seems impossibly long to him. When he finally reaches the door he opens it so very slowly for he doesn't want to wake anyone around. No witnesses tonight.

When he slips into the room, closing the door behind him, he sighs. His eyes got long used to the darkness by now so that Thor does not have any problems finding his brother in here just barely lit by the moons distant light. Loki is not asleep. Anymore. He sits up in his bed, the sheets falling from his shoulders.

„Thor.“

And Thor eagerly looks for his stool to place it in a corner of the room hidden from the grand window. He sits down in a consuming shadow. „Come here.“

Loki obeys, to tired not to. He gets out of his bed and stalks right to where his brother directed him. Thor watches the moonlight play over one half of Lokis face before he steps into the shade of his hiding place. It's really dark. Loki seems almost blind and carefully reaches out with his hands. Thor takes and pulls them to rest on his shoulders. When Loki got his feet in a comfortable position he lets out a tiny sound.

Thors fingers slip beneath his brothers cozy nightshirt to find the trouser waistband. He wants to pull it down and suddenly hesitates, his heart leaping, but then he does it. His thumb slides down slowly all over Lokis leg, down the warm skin from hip to knee. By accident.

Thors leans in. His lips start searching for what they crave. But for the first time they tremble. As he finds Lokis resting length he cups its silken head in his mouth and pulls it up. _Warm._ This is not perverted. This is bliss. A thankful sigh rolls through the back of Thors throat. Pressing his tongue against the tiny slit makes Loki lose a quiet gasp and grow harder. And then Thor doesn't stop himself from taking what he needs. He takes it all.

Hands resting upon Lokis naked hips Thor distantly notices how fond he grew of his brothers scent. Loki is motionless under his hands, not even trembling. He's just so weary, almost asleep again.

The sounds are more intense in this darkness. Thor hears his own mouth work so much closer than ever before. The faster he sucks the more irritated he gets and thus he sucks even stronger. But he shoves that irritation away.

Lokis sighs are softer than they usually are. They get faster with Thors pace but never really forceful. Altogether a seldom gentleness is aired by him tonight, may it be because of his sleepiness or any other reason. This gentleness however fits perfectly in Thors theory of what their secret is to Loki: A humble duty, devotionally performed. Thor wants so bad to interpret it that way. But he cannot help but notice over all how much these sighs are Lokis. He doesn't know when his thumbs started to slowly caress the skin above his brothers hip bones. And he doesn't want to know _why._

Lokis scent. Lokis taste. Lokis sighs. His flesh. His hands but light upon Thors shoulders. His skin.

Thor feels he cannot completely escape to his beloved illusion of being a boy again this time. Instead, oh _gods_ , he feels too clearly how his body is the one of a strong man. A warmth different to the comforting one he used to enjoy in this, a very different one crawls slowly through his veins and muscles. And it scares him. When he makes his brother come hot in his throat there are tears struggling to break free from his eyes. Still he adores this ... but a part of him knows now that he shouldn't. And especially _not this way._

He feels like Fandral destroyed what they do.

 


	5. 'Lokes, you fox!'

 

 

Panting and deathly pale Loki stares down into his hands. They're trembling like hell and slickly white with come. It drips down from his fingertips to his bathrooms floor.

He cannot sneak out of facing the truth anymore. What they do is slowly driving him mad.

Some time ago he even dreamed of it: His vision was badly clouded and Thor was nothing more but an invisible voice in the dark. He followed his brothers call into a perfectly black shadow. And when the touching began it was different. Gentle fingers running down his legs, warm hands fondly caressing his sides. And a mouth devouring him with an unknown kind of want.

When Loki woke up that morning he felt his whole body tingle from tip to toe in remembrance of that dream. He was horrified by how it overwhelmed him. It obsessed him all day long.

That same day he met Thor in the dining hall. Loki felt utterly uneasy. He couldn't bring himself to look into his brothers eyes. To the simple question of how he felt he stuttered some disconnected fragments of verbiage he would have loved to rip his own tongue out for. His palms were cold and wet with stress.

Strange then was that Thor abruptly started to stay away from him. They barely even met in public. When they did Thor acted like there'd never ever happened anything between them. And this got Loki nervous. Very nervous. Not to mention Fandral lurking around him every now and then, stupidly thinking he wouldn't notice.

He tried to feel freed. He tried to start over his beloved magic studies once again for he'd neglected them long enough. He tried to simply be who he was before that goddamned night. But he couldn't do anything but wait for Thor to return: Afraid he would, afraid he wouldn't. Loki could not THINK. He could not breathe.

He didn't miss it, though. The uncertainty about it was what drove him hopping mad. Had Thor somehow regained his sanity and pride? Or had he just gotten bored of it? Had the fear of the throne and its heavy weighing responsibilities suddenly left without a trace?

So it wasn't that Loki missed what they did. He missed the explanation for _why they stopped._

At least he thought so until today.

His whole body ached badly with stress. Not even the baths hot water could help his cramping muscles to relax. So when he got out to dry his hair his fingers secretly, almost bashfully found their way down his body. There was no one around to feel ashamed of it. He was alone. So why couldn't he shake of that ridiculous feeling of doing something wrong? Furious he closed his eyes and tried to think of nothing. But when he'd angrily stroked himself to the strongest levels of lust he could possibly experience with touching himself the sudden vision of Thor in his lap appeared behind his eyelids. So real it was that a cursed second long Loki could clearly see himself buried in those lips. There was his brothers glistening tongue slipping around his flesh again. And then with an all too blue and knowing glance Thor stared right up and into him.

Loki came hard and painfully, a drawn out whine upon his trembling mouth; panting and deathly pale he stares down into his hands. They're trembling like hell and slickly white with ...

When he gets aware of someone knocking at the door his knees almost give in.

„Hello? Anybody home?“

Feeling found out Loki totally forgets that he could easily pretend not being home and replies in a rushed voice: „I'll be there in an instant!”

After washing his hands in a hurry, quickly running his shivering fingers through his still clammy hair to get it at least halfway out of his face Loki can but barely stop himself from running completely naked to the door. The towel, yes, at least the towel round his hips!

When he opens to find Fandral in front of him he wonders why he'd rushed at all.

„Pardon me, I just need to talk to Thor and cannot find him. I thought you might kno-“, and then the gadfly examines its victim: flushed cheeks, heaving chest, pretty naked chest, by the way, sweet glossy guilt shining from the eyes, „-ooooow! I SEE!“ Fandral leers deliciously. „ _Blondie's_ in there! Lokes, you fox!“

„Wh-what?“

Na, don't you act that innocent! It's finally time to give up the secrecy. There are some well founded rumors and an eyewitness around“, the warrior lewdly blinks one eye, „and some of us are curious to get the details, you know! Na! But I don't wanna deter you from … whatever you were busy with. Goodbye!“

As Loki slowly closes the door his wide eyes see only black. There is a screeching ping violently drilling through his ears right into his skull.

_Nine, let me die. Now._

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> FANDRALED again ;D ... the sucker kinda grows on me!


	6. This is all a show

 

 

How stupid he was to believe that they know.

Loki faintly smiles at this moment of idiotic brainlessness. It must have been the aftershock of that filthy fingerjob.

No one in Asgard would ever tolerate such a relationship. Especially the future king would never be allowed to freely practice an infamous action like, well - what is it in the end? - sleeping with his very brother. Incest is to be punished with death (and at this realization Loki cannot help but flinch).

Fandral did not mean Thor when he easygoingly referred to _Blondie_. Of course he didn't. Perhaps he'd heard and seen something, but certainly not everything.

This is a chance, though, for Loki to deviously confront Thor and of course to avenge himself a good bit. Yes, this is a lovely excuse to storm right into that brute of a brother. Loki wouldn't look like desperately running after him and his attention. He would act like being utterly shocked that all world knows what unspeakable shame Thor dragged them both into.

_And without a word you just didn't come back!_

Loki would never have to speak this denunciation out loud to get its pressure out of his throat now. Sometimes life is good.

He closes his eyes and takes a deep and slow breath into his lungs. Just before knocking on the door in front of him he prepares to use his skillful trickiness as good as he possibly can. This will be the best show he'd ever performed. _No no, begone you telltale smile!_ He has to look earnestly appalled combined with accusingly humiliated now.

He knocks, steps in and closes the door...

Thor drops the golden goblet at his brothers grave words: „They know it.“

He didn't dare to search his younger brothers company for a while now. He missed it. Very much he did. But he didn't dare get close to that pale faced dark haired lovely scamp whose mischievous smile he'd known ever since. Thor hadn't seen Loki smile for some time now. And didn't he look terribly sheepish that day after Thor'd secretly stolen into his room? After he'd desperately tried to hold on to the illusion that what they did was mutually innocent? After he failed to? And after he felt his need ripen into a darker shade?

All the time he was torn between simply missing his brother and missing that other side of him. Of both of them.

Thor didn't yet think out a solution to the situation. He knew he couldn't just stay out of Lokis way forever. But he didn't have any other idea of dealing with that mess he had begun.

However, that doesn't matter now. Loki eventually searches _his_ company. And Thor just has to face it.

„They know“, Loki says, his eyes fleeing in bewilderment and his voice an insistent but fragile whisper. „You hear me, Thor? They know it!“

„WHAT?“ Thor springs forward to grip his brothers shoulders for he seems to be falling over in a moment. Supporting him he tries to catch his eyes but Lokis gaze is unfocussed, his mouth open. Helplessly Thor watches Lokis lower teeth tremble in fear. „WHO knows it, Loki? Brother, TALK TO ME! Who knows it?“

 _Interesting._ Seems to the Trickster that Thor is pretty much aware of his doings fatal consequences. Honest anger makes Loki frown. Fake hysteria makes him strike away Thors hands and stagger backwards. „This is YOUR doing, Thor! You did this to us!“

A roar comes from Thors mouth half stranded, half unreasonable. Didn't Loki always just watch him do, didn't he allow him to?

„This is a nightmare, all this should never have happened! You know what that means! Why did you DO this, Thor? Why did you?“ _And why didn't you come back?_

„Brother-“, Thor wails, reaching out for him.

„NO!“ Suddenly Loki steps backwards again. Theatrically he lets his face play its look of reproach. „Don't touch me! DON'T!“ It is a show. Loki just gives in to make it look real. Let Thor suffer for what he's done to him! For this is all a show, isn't it?

But then Thors face changes from penitent and horrified to something else. Something strong and red and mad. Furiously he storms into Loki just before he can realize what's happening and pushes him hard against a wall. Their faces just too close they stare into each others eyes.

„LIAR! You always lie to me“, Thor booms. „This is NOT MY FAULT alone! You wanted it AS MUCH AS I!“ His breathing hangs heavy between them. And Loki, surprised by what a good actor he is, feels tears fill up his great green eyes.

„No“, he spits. „I have never been completely into it. You used my body against my mind! I didn't want-“ And before he can end his poisonous speech Thor roars and closes his great hands around his brothers neck to silence him.

A few moments pass and there are Thors madly trembling claws clenching tight around Lokis throat, there is Lokis hoarse whining, wide eyed trying to catch some air. And as the Tricksters fighting fingers grow weaker round the Thunderers wrists the iron grip loosens and makes its victim pant for breath like a drowning man.

But Thor keeps hold of Loki by the neck. „You want this just as much as I“, he says and lets one hand grip violently down between his brothers legs. A triumphant smile widens upon Thors face as he finds Loki hard and pulsing in his trousers. Angrily squeezing he makes him yelp.

And then Thor throws himself upon him like an animal. Teeth crushing against one another make their lips burst open to bleed. Thors forcing tongue digs deep and conquers Lokis mouth. Their hips press desperately together, thrusting with all their weight to get even closer. The clothes do not matter in the least. Hard and very fast they roll into a chaos of a rhythm. Panting, yelling sucking, biting, groaning they come.

And then silence. Thor buries his heavy head in Lokis neck. His hands let go of him. But his great body keeps him still in place.

„Tell me who knows, Loki.“

„Fandral told me of rumors and an eyewitness“, comes a weary reply. Almost he forgets that he doesn't believe this shit himself.

Suddenly Thor is wide awake. His head stirs up to face Loki. „Fandral doesn't know it's me. He told me that he saw you with some blond haired visitor. That's all he knows. He thinks I'm a whore.“

And that very last and totally absurd sentence makes Loki break out into a hysterical laughter. He doesn't see Thors smile for his vision instantly blurs.

 _Of course!_ They talked about it. Fandral is one of his closest friends in the end.

_I should have thought about that … my wits really seem to get slow over this disaster._

 


	7. An impossible size

 

 

And so they kind of turned … back to the roots. After Loki confronted him Thor felt their secrecy as clearly as never before. And he realized that he _loved_ it. He could hide from the world whatever he wanted. Nothing would ever force him to abstain from anything, not even being king. And anyways, when the crown would finally sit on his head and the public found out about him and Loki no one would ever be able to forbid it! Being king doesn't mean to obey but to be obeyed, doesn't it? Thor saw it just as simple: He wanted to do this. He wanted to do it this way. So he did. And if he could do this he could rule the world if only he wanted to.

The first time he returned to his brother Thors chest was filled with the mighty assurance of really being a god. The future king of gods. This time instead of fear it was a flush of power that urged him back to Loki. No more for comfort, though, but hungry for satisfaction.

Loki reluctantly stretches out a voiceless moan. Spying down his nose he sees Thor watching him with a rude intensity. As he catches Lokis eyes he starts to slowly smile, his lips curling deliciously around his brothers throbbing flesh. _You want this just as much as I._

Observing Loki writhe in lustful helplessness makes Thor know that he owns him. That he obeys to his every touch. This is long not about feeling like a child anymore. No, this is all about feeling like a king. Complacently Thors fingers work himself below; A newly discovered facet in what they do.

„It's awkward when you watch“, Loki sighs. He feels his aching length being shifted in his brothers burning throat, wet with fire. With a smack Thor catches him between his left row of grinders, playfully rasping and nibbling the skin, never breaking the eye contact. Loki tenses and tries not to give a sound, staring down, never away, but cannot keep from twitching his brows, from opening his mouth to show his lower teeth and finally lose a soundless whimper.

The first time they returned to practicing what they do as if it was the most natural thing Thor acted like he did the many times before: Selfishly taking what he wanted. The same procedure as every time. Just that it lasted so much longer. Thor seemed to be nursing a kind of backlog demand. His hands were unusually restless. Instead of just supporting Thors weight they fondled Loki up and down his knees through the fabric of his trousers. And Thor sucked so _deep_. He hadn't ever sucked that deep. Loki ended up dizzy and forworn like being struck by lightning just too often.

The second time Loki lay backwards in bed, completely naked down the navel; Thor'd never ripped Lokis trousers off that way. He was wilder this time. Forceful. And then, crouching above his brothers lap like an animal feasting on prey, he touched himself.

Loki almost whited out at the sudden sensation as a lustful groan violently tickled his tip deep in Thors throat. Then he glanced down past his bared spread legs and found Thors fists working a lance of sturdy flesh which turned out to be, well, the last thing Loki would ever have expected to witness between his thighs. Freaked out he pressed his eyes shut again.

That sight disturbed him just as much as it made him come.

Loki hadn't seen his brothers prick since they'd been innocent children bathing together. Seeing it now fully grown up and all too close to his sensitively exposed body was the strangest paradox his mind ever had to cope with. Of course, that day of confrontation he'd felt it thrust into him, felt its brute force drive him against the wall. And even after they'd come they'd stood pressed tight together for a good while on. But he only remembered that friction. The fabric between then; raw, damp, hot.

...and he'd just imagined that _impossible size_ , had he?

He hadn't. The third time Thor shamefully worked himself again he allowed Loki a wonderful panorama to review his first impression. And there it was, that abasingly impossible size. Oh, he wouldn't compare himself to it! He shouldn't. It was childish. But Loki found himself far from not being childish as tears of anger flooded his eyes. He managed to blink them away but that didn't help him feel less subordinate, dominated and … literally small.

And they didn't kiss again. But, _All Nine_ , they'd kissed.

_How did this happen?_

That cursed question returns to his thoughts even now, gaze battling with Thor and knowing he's losing it. Suddenly, as he watches himself being swallowed up, as he feels himself come behind these greedy lips, as he sees Thor suck it all in, drink him empty with a gulp and another, suddenly a freezing need hollows Loki out. For a split second long he remembers Thors tongue filling him up with warmth.

Loki feels just too empty. He shuts his eyes and turns his head away. As he hears Thor open his mouth around him, working himself over the edge, and as he feels him groan his lustful breath against his wet sucked skin Loki shivers with a cold too unknown to be named.

 


	8. The golden stag

 

 

„They say there's a golden stag in the forests of Vanaheim. Its fur is said to be as bright as the clearest rays of the sun. It shall be of a powerful magic, you know“, Sif explains. „This is why I need your“, she hesitates, rolls her eyes and sighs, „ your help, Loki. I cannot find it without a magician.“

Loki draws up one eyebrow. Never before has he heard the Lady Sif talk in such an honest tone to him. She'd always mock him for being not strong enough to really call himself a man. But today Sif seems to be earnestly making an effort to win his attention over to her plan.

He does not have enough details yet to decide whether to say yes or no, though. „And that stag: What do you intent to do with it?“

Her eyes glow in a rapture very rare to her temper. „I want it to be my gift to Thor at his coronation. Its fur shall lie next to our bed. And once he's king of Asgard the first thing his feet shall touch every morning will be a coat of gold.“

The coronation. _Yes._ It isn't that long anymore. Of course people start to think about it. Loki thinks about it for some time himself now. Things like _Will it end once he's king?_ haunt him ever since. The question whether he wants it to end or not he doesn't dare to let into his mind, though. Lokis eyes twitch at the way Sif says _our bed._

Wouldn't it be absurdly ironic if the thing meant to lie beside Thors bed, and of all things his BED, came as a gift from Sif … and Loki? Thor would know that his brother's had a hand in it, wouldn't he? No, he'd probably not think about it at all.

 _Our bed._ Loki cannot keep from imagining Thor lying with Sif. He tries to shake it off. But it stays. Naked limbs, skin on skin, perfectly intertwined. Would Sif be under him? Loki cannot really think of her to … oh, he tries to shake it off! Atop, beneath, it doesn't matter in the end: Thor would be _inside_ of her. And he would kiss her. With the very same mouth he …

No. Loki cannot even think it. He hasn't ever realized that Thor kisses his future queen with that goddamned mouth which he sucks his brothers dick with. And he cannot dare himself to think: _Why doesn't he kiss me?_ Instead there is a stitch inside of him. _This is no jealousy. I am not jealous._

Suddenly Loki cannot look Sif in the eyes. As he doesn't say anything she gets angry: „Come on, see it this way: You wouldn't have to get a gift for him yourself anymore! I could tell him that you helped me a good deal with getting the fur. It stays my idea and my hand which hunted the stag, that goes without saying. But your tricks would have an essential role in it.“

He shuts his eyes and snuffles.

But if it ends once he's king … and if it doesn't … for all the wrongs he pulled Loki into so far and possibly yet would ... the fur would always remind Thor of it. It would haunt him. Loki could forever be the very last thing King Thor would think of whenever he tries to peacefully fall asleep in his matrimonial bed. And Loki would be the first to appear in his mind the morning after.

Okay, it sounds a bit overdone. But it sounds like a pretty revenge, too.

„I would be most pleased to assist you, Lady Sif.“

And thus they travel via Heimdall to the forests of Vanaheim. The light is greener and purer in this realm. More feminine. And the trees! Loki almost forgets what they came for the instant he witnesses their beauty. The forests aura pulses with magic all around. Loki sighs in a sudden flush. This just feels like home.

Impatiently Sif eyes him up. „And … do you need any kind of special things for any kind of chant or so?“

„No … no, I don't think so. I sense these different streams of magic so much stronger that anything in Asgard. Their colours taste that … good. Oh, I am very sure I can just follow the stags track.“

The Lady frowns. But as Loki directly stalks into a certain direction she stays close behind him.

It is a wide and brightly lit clearing where they find the golden stag. In all its majesty it stands between strangely fluorescenting flowers. Oh, how that animal makes every light, the sun, the moon and stars blush in awe! It is a sight to fill ones heart up to the brim.

„Loki“, Sif whispers close to his ear as they crouch beneath some bushes. „Do you think you can lure it over here?“

„I think ...“

Drunken by the pulsing magic aired by the incredible stag Loki slowly looks down to where Sifs grip rests tight around the adorned wood of an asgardian longbow. His eyes wander back up to meet hers and then to meet the figure in the clearing. Loki stands up without a sound and secretly creeps closer to it.

 _How strong you are_ , shoots through his mind as he enters the last mantle of the stags aura only sensible to the ones blessed with magic. A smile widens upon his face as the shimmering creature turns its majestic head around to face him. It doesn't turn away. No. It comes closer.

Loki drowns in these otherworldly eyes. Suddenly he knows that the stag is not made of gold, not of the sun. Thor is made of gold and sun. But this being is something even above.

 _The fur shall lie next to our bed._ To be trampled on.

Suddenly a panic makes Loki turn his head around. For an instant he glimpses Sif and the bow. And the arrow. He shoots a desperate glance back to the stag and screams without a voice and only with his magic: _FLEE!_

The arrow darts rapidly past Lokis left ear and into nothing but the clearings air. The stag didn't even run. It just disappeared.

„NO! Where did it go?“ Sif comes out of her hiding place. „Track it, Loki! We'll have a second chance!“

„I cannot sense it“, he lies. Breathless. As she frowns he adds: „It must have hidden its aura when the arrow scared it. I cannot sense it anywhere around. It's gone.“

Deeply disappointed she lets her bow sink down and sighs. Loki can't hide a smirk. „Maybe a thing of such a powerful magic is not to be owned by anyone.“

 _And maybe I am not to be owned by Thor._ For a most beautiful instant Loki feels like he's found ... kind of a way out.

 


	9. Hide and Seek

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> HU, sorry for possible grammatical errors: due to a pretty fucked up lack of time I am not able to correct the text right away. Glad to even be able to submit a sequel at all. Enjoy :D

 

 

It's just like Hide and Seek. A cursed form of never ending Hide and Seek.

About some weeks ago Loki suddenly started to play this game with him. Thor found it amusing. The first days he found it exciting. Every time he came for his brother in a place of privacy Loki suddenly disappeared from his grasp whenever he tried to seize him. Like smoke in the wind. A magic trick the golden prince had never before witnessed. Like a thrilled and stubborn child he spent countless hours searching for his hidden brother upside down the whole palace.

In public Loki acted like always. He never vanished if they were in the company of others. Thor wouldn't ever take him then anyways; and they'd exchange looks. Looks telling stories. Thor knew that Loki knew that he knew. Oh, these moments of almost closeness drove Thors want up into heights! Being refused his demand goaded him on intensely. It made his pulse tickle in his veins. It raised his hackles.

Sometimes, though, he got angry at the lack of control and stormed and roared through the skies. For he was about to be Lokis king his brother should obey his wishes, shouldn't he? His late behavior almost marched upon high treason!

But then again Thor enjoyed it. Wasn't it a challenge in the end no one else in Asgard would ever dare to push him into? For he actually _was_ to be king?

Since they'd been children Loki never appreciated the respectful distance all world set Thor apart from others with only because he'd rule the greatest of realms one day. Loki would never cease to intentionally ignore this fact, to bug especially him with his most resourceful tricks, to blink an eye and smile. Thor always loved that.

… but finally it starts to annoy him. Thor has never been the one for hunting. He does not have the patience. So at this point he walks horribly bad tempered through the palace all day long to leave everyone around just shaking their heads in perplexity.

It is today that the tension smoldering between the brothers shall find an outlet, though.

Hogun is with them. They are in the library. The warrior is looking for a special book about sword smithing and of course Loki knows exactly where to find it. He knows where to find _every_ book in Asgard.

„Look“, says Loki as he climbs up a wooden ladder to reach the upper shelves, „I think that's it!“ Thor glimpses up to him, all muscles tensed. He's only waiting for this perfect instant to finally snatch his cunning prey.

As long as he doesn't get too close to his brother he doesn't disappear. And as long as there's some third person around, of course. But Loki always keeps his distance from Thor, even then. And thus Thor has this theory in his mind about Loki being only able to sneak away when he doesn't have his grip on him. Could be wrong with that. But it's worth a try. And it's a game, isn't it? Some chance to win it must be given. Let Loki be distracted by anything just long enough for Thor to catch him!

„Good“, Hogun replies with that politeness so natural to him. „Thank you.“ As Loki jumps down the ladder and lays the book into the warriors hands he bows his head and smiles.

The three of them slowly stroll back to the library gates. Thor carefully watches every step Loki takes and sets his own with highest caution. He doesn't listen to what Hogun and Loki talk about. It must be something related to that book. To swords and smithing and stuff. Thor doesn't listen. He only tries to figure out if Loki really doesn't pay any attention to him or if that's acted. Sweat starts to form on his forehead. How can Loki just back away that smart whenever Thor steps closer? He doesn't even once shoot him a glimpse! And, NINE, that library is a hell of a catacomb. It takes them way too long to get out of it.

When the grand gates are finally clearly visible they come along a table stacked with books of various sizes. Even beneath its counter top books tower just as close together as to give the table the appearance of a compact cube. One could easily crouch behind and hide …

But Loki would notice, wouldn't he? This is less about furtiveness than about being fast.

And that final moment Thor doesn't think about it anymore; his hands just dart out for their aim. Thor smiles in disbelief as he sees his grip tighten round Lokis upper arm. For a heartbeat Loki doesn't move. Hogun stops talking in surprise.

„Brother! Would you mind … telling me where to find a book, too?“ _Good. That's a start. Just don't let go now._

When he slowly turns around Lokis eyes are darts: „ _A_ book? No matter which? Well, I suggest to look around. You'll find more than one, then.“

„No“, Thor stutters, not yet sure what to lie. He doesn't lie that often. „I need a book … of, ah, of a special content.“

Loki tries to squirm free from the grip - but fails. Falsely smiling he asks: „What content?“

A pause. Thor is all too visibly thinking. Then: „It's about Sif.“ Hogun eyes the brothers up and decides to back away silently as Loki wails: „Oh, I doubt I want to be involved in a matter like this!“

„And I guess I'd be leaving you two now“, the warrior smiles. Thors heart skips a beat in joy. His fingers tighten even more round Lokis arm.

„Wha- no, don't you leave me alone with that oaf and his childish curiosity in the female body!“

But Hogun's already gone. Angrily Loki lets his mask fall down and glares at his grinning brother.

„You are SUCH a bad liar it makes my ears bleed“, Loki snarls. „Good for you anyone would always just take your awful skills for your inborn imbecility.“

Thor laughs at the hopeless insult. Seems he was right with thinking Lokis disappearance-trick only works if his body is not held back. The silvertongued snake is trapped like a mouse.

„Well played, brother“, Thor says.

„I didn't play anything!“ Again Loki fights to break free. In vain.

„Come on, I caught you!“

„I SEE.“

For a heartbeat they stare into each others eyes. Loki's never been the best loser. But Thor just pulls him close. This is his well deserved price. And he doesn't even think about the fact that this is actually a public place. His free hand finds a direct way past belt and trousers to slip around his brothers soft, warm skin.

„WHAT do you think you're doing?“ Lokis nails dig deep into Thors wrist to stop him. Thor frowns and growls: „Just give it up, I caught you! I've been patient enough, I want it now!“

And as he dominantly squeezes Loki hard the revenge is a knee violently crushed into his nuts: A horror-stricken gasp followed by a painful howl.

Some hidden watcher would have thought this scene ridiculously hilarious. The way the two grown men struggle half standing, half falling over, the broader one shaking the slimmer, the slimmer kicking the broader they finally look like brothers again. They would've laughed themselves if this was not about something that grave. But their faces only speak the language of WIN OR DIE.

When Thor's got Lokis pants almost down and Loki's passionately trying to strangle Thor an unexpected call from the gates makes them halt in shock.

„THOR?“ That's Sif.

The brothers stare into each others terrified eyes.

 


	10. The good behaviour (in libraries)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm kind of losing control over Thor. Forgive me!

 

 

Lokis disappearance-trick works just too simple. He's got the idea from the golden stag.

It's actually a combination of two different spells. Whenever Thor came for him the last weeks all Loki had to do was this: create a magical clone of himself whilst getting invisible. Step out of that clone and some good safe paces away. Let Thor grip through the illusion and let it disappear.

He could have thought of this so very long ago.

Thor never came to the conclusion that Loki was still in the room. He'd look around completely astounded. Like a pet being beautifully duped by its owner. Oh, how Loki had to force himself not to laugh out loud at the sight. Really, staying still then came out as being a greater challenge the Trickster would have imagined. It was funny indeed: That FACE. Just priceless.

It goes without saying that Thor didn't get the hint right away. He thought it a hunting game. Loki saw it in his eyes. That kind of bothered him and made him feel insecure whenever he was all alone. Who would assure him Thor wouldn't just jump at him out of a dark corner like a madman? And Loki knew he'd never win a mere physical fight against his brother. So he started to even sleep invisible with a clone by his side.

And, Nine, he hadn't slept that peaceful in a while.

Good thing about it also was that it made Loki finally find his confidence again. He'd doubted that he could really pull off to break free from that strange _thing_ , call it addiction, the brothers kept secret from the world. He thought he'd need it. Thought he'd run right back to Thor anyways. But no. No, feeling finally in control of the situation made a warm knowledge grow inside of Loki that told him he could survive an outright withdrawal. Loki wouldn't always need his brother to still his secret lusts. He'd find someone for himself one day. Someone to touch. Someone to kiss …

He knew, though, that his pretty trick was only a method to delay things. Sooner or later Loki had to talk to Thor. Had to make clear to him that what they did would not continue. That he wouldn't allow it anymore. But the Trickster didn't find the courage to. Thus he vanished and vanished and hushed and hoped to somehow wean Thor from his very kinky habit this way around.

They could talk about it later, couldn't they? Perhaps after the coronation. _As if that date would change anything._ But it would change everything, wouldn't it?

However, no matter how cautious you are you cannot keep yourself from getting used to things completely. The more often Loki escaped Thors fingers the more natural it felt to him. He even imagined that Thor slowly started to lose his interest in him. Sure, there was the always shrieking doubt. But one even gets used to _that_. And getting used to things means letting go the tension. To finally relax.

And this is how he suddenly got caught.

„THOR?“ There is an angry voice calling from the library gates: That's Sif.

Loki desperately tries to gulp the dry shock down. His eyes are wide. So very wide. And so are Thors.

„Let go of me“, Loki snarls. He tries once more to break out of the iron grip his brother closed around his arm but his body seems to be abandoned by any kind of strength. Sifs steps are closing in. Soon she would see them. Would see Thors hand disappear deep in Lokis trousers. Oh, she'd see! And Thor just stares. How can he possibly just stare? _Let go, let go, let go!_

But as the painful eternity of a second passes the golden prince smirks an unusual dark shade of his smile and pulls his younger brother quickly around the book stacked table. Thor crouches behind it just in time to escape his Ladys eyes, clinging to Lokis legs like a predator to its prey.

Having been literally pulled and very brutally pulled by a mans most sensitive limb Loki is just too startled to react as fast as his brother does. He wants to protest as he already sees Thor crouch to his feet and sling his arm with all its power round his trembling knees, the other hand possessing him still. For a moment Loki just stands and glares down. _You didn't really do this, did you?_ Thors eyes are full of a silent triumph. His fingers give a teasing squeeze that makes Loki suck his breath in sharply.

And then it is too late for him to hide.

„Loki?“ He turns his head to face a very angry Lady Sif. A cursed heartbeat long he thinks she knows. But then his mind remembers all the books blocking the sight to Thor and half of his own chest. _Oh Nine, the books._

„You look like you've been caught doing a crime“, she spits. „Now WHERE is he?“

„You mean Thor?“

„Who ELSE, Silvertongue? Stop acting that STUPID! Hogun and Fan were out in the hallways making jokes! I KNOW what you two are doing!“ A jolt of horror strikes him like a thunderbolt.

„'A book of a special content'! 'It's about SIF'! And then he dares to turn to YOU!“ She wildly screams over her shoulder: „THOR! I KNOW YOU'RE HERE! GET OUT AND FACE ME LIKE A MAN!“

Loki lets out a thankful sigh at the realization that she doesn't mean _what they really do_. Thor secretly jerks at his name in his hiding place. His grip tightens around Lokis knees. He doesn't give a sound.

She stalks round between the bookshelves in a wide circle and calls into every direction of the library. Oh, how her face grows red! A sight to be feared indeed. Anger and rage make her voice vibrate in a way Loki has never heard before. But it's also shame that makes her blush, isn't it?

 _Ah,_ Loki thinks and licks his lips. There must have appeared some intimate problems between their royal sheets. Seems Sif thinks that Thor wanted to look something up which would embarrass her pride. _I wonder … no, I don't wonder what. I don't want to know._

„He's not here, Sif“, Loki explains to calm her. A glimpse down into his brothers eyes and a raised eyebrow make sure Thor knows that he doesn't do this to help him. But Thor seems to be pretty amused by the whole situation.

„Not here? Where IS he, then? And don't you DARE to lie now, Loki!“

„Well, as he came to me with that very personal matter I directly realized that explicit things like these are nothing one should involve a brother in“, just as the words are out he hears what they really mean. Embarrassed he gulps and continues: „I refused him my-“

The chilly air suddenly finds its direct way across Lokis skin. With bated breath he feels the horror crawl his body up. He shoots a glance to his knees and sees that _somehow_ his pants are down. His eyes flee back up again and meet Sifs before they can see Thors heartily amused smile.

_This. Just. Doesn't. Happen._

It takes Thor only a split second long to point out _what exactly_ Loki refused him lately. He shamelessly drives his thumbnail deep into that tiny slit across the silken head of his brothers caught flesh. Loki feels himself curve even harder in alarm.

„-hhhhelp“, he whimpers his sentence to an end, barely keeping himself from moaning out loud. Sif frowns at the sudden change of his voice. That look upon his face makes her eye him cautiously.

Lokis left hand slams onto the next best tower of books to support him, the other he rips up to his face to seal his own mouth. Thor lets his nail slide up and down this all too tiny gap of flesh. His finger shows no mercy til it feels its pulsing victim weep some first hot tears of want. These drops moistening Thors thumb could possibly be blood, Loki imagines. As he looks into Sifs eyes he honestly wishes them to be blood. But they're not.

Desperately trying not to sob in lust he coughs several times into his palm. His vision almost fades some scary seconds long.

 _Yes, you refused me,_ shoots a sweet pain up his spine. Loki whines.

„What's wrong with you?“, Sif asks as she takes an uncertain step closer.

 


	11. Forbidden things are sweeter

 

 

„IT'S NOTHING“, Loki yells a bit too loud. Sif abruptly stands still and stares at him in deep suspicion.

„Ahhhhhhh ... it, iiiiis...“, he stutters, „it's just, that - lately“, Nine, he cannot keep from panting like a virgin, „lately I practiced a very complex spell.“ Gulping and wheezing after every second word the Trickster struggles hard to get his lie out right. „Some magic has its aftershocks. Comes in – OUGH – in waves, you know. Nothing serious. It's alright.“

„Are you in pain then?“

„It's nothing“, he whimpers, pressing his eyes shut and clawing his fingers into some very thick old leather books.

„Shall I … can I do anything? Take you to a healer or something?“ Sif already wants to come around the table.

„NO!“

Again she stays where she stands. Thor also seems to notice what a precarious situation he's provoking and lets his working fingers stop. Only his silent breath stroking across Lokis skin like a flame he gives his brother the chance to just in time turn things around again.

Loki shoots him a glare. He cannot believe Thor's smiling.

„It's over. Gone. Sorry to have affrighted you.“

„Over? Just like that? What kind of joke is this, Trickster?“

„As I told you: Some magic claims a tribute. But it's harmless.“

„Pain is never harmless“ she spits. „You are no warrior indeed if you can't value it … but do as you must, maniac. I don't want to have anything to do with your vicious spells.“

Loki sneers, keeping his thoughts to himself. _But I was good enough to track the golden stag for you._

„As to your question“, he says, taking a deep breath and trying to regain control over his tingling body. „I don't know where Thor is now. When I didn't want to help him he got angry and stormed right out of that window“, with a finger he points to the end of the hall where a grand wall of glass fixed in curvy iron lets the sun into the library. „He crushed it so I had to fix it with … one of my vicious spells. You know his temper. A brainless brute.“

In revenge the ruffian clinging to Lokis legs threatens him with an all too warm mouth closing around him silently. Loki gulps as Thors lazy tongue starts to suckle him melting dizzy. A heartbeat long all world stands still. Lokis heart skips a beat at the violently soft caress. He shuts his eyes.

How silent the bastard can be if only he wants to! Loki angrily thinks of all the times they'd been alone, all the times the sounds just drove him mad. Oh, these sounds. Now they're only slickly smacking through his memories they're almost worse. Loki's frightened by the sudden urge to yell at Thor to just be _louder_. He wouldn't ever dare to admit it. But he missed the sounds so bad. He misses them.

Horrified at the sudden sensation Loki bites his teeth as tight together as he can. Nine, these weeks he didn't feel his brothers filthy lips close around him seem gone like seconds now. These weeks he thought he'd actually be able to break free ...

_No. NO tears now._

How can this grave knowledge of having lost again raise his needs just so achingly? His heart races up his throat as Thors tongue slips across his skin. Nine, how are they possibly both that _silent_?

Sif stares over to the distant window and sighs. „In case you haven't noticed yet, your brother is a complete idiot sometimes.“ Wearily she rubs her eyes with the left hand. „I don't even know why I'm telling you that.“

This is when Loki realizes that Sif is still in the library. How could he have forgotten her? A panic hits him like a spear of ice. He wants to jerk his hips away from Thor, away from what he craves the most, away from what she mustn't know.

_Oh, anything, but please don't make me come in front of her._

But Thors free hand grips around him to keep him in place. Clawing into the pale soft flesh of Lokis naked buttocks he underlines his power with a deep strong suck.

Loki struggles to keep his senses clear and almost suffocates on a groan. Nine! His mind clouds just so heavily. What is this nightmare all about? And how, really, HOW did it just happen again? Is he ever to escape? The fire burning the center of his body spreads out up and down from tip to toe to deafen all these screaming thoughts. It hammers just too hard behind his skull. He feels his blood pump through his fingertips.

„Believe me“, Loki babbles, hoping to somehow hide his dramatic need, „I know far too much about Thors moods.“

Sif shoots him a glance. Her eyes twitch.

Loki literally _sees_ her think. But about what and whom he does not have the strength to care. All he knows now is that she shouldn't think. She should leave.

 


	12. Loki has a plan

 

 

 

Loki doesn't know what actually happened between Sif and Thor. But suddenly he remembers how to use the mere knowledge of the fact THAT something happened to get her out of the way. Women tend to feel responsible for any problems they appear to get with their lovers. And even Sif is a woman, isn't she? So he just guesses his next words. They can't go all too wrong. All Loki urgently needs now is to end their conversation. Make her leave. To finally be alone with Thor and his grand, grand, grand defeat. If he'd not be allowed to release into that gracious defeat soon Loki isn't sure what would happen.

Sweat tickling his neck he forces himself to raise his eyebrows and to fake a smile: „It's not your fault, Sif.“ _And now please just sod off._

She doesn't react as Loki hoped, though. Her face turns into that frighteningly deep red again. Out of a sudden she's extremely angry and storms right into his direction and would have gone even farther if not the edge of the book stacked table stopped her opposite to Loki.

Leaning in the words just burst out of her: „NOT MY FAULT you say? OF COURSE it's not my fault! For HOW am I to blame that Thor couldn't - !!! I mean, we hadn't EVER had problems before! He should be THANKFUL to have a woman like me! THANKFUL! It's not my fault that he can't! But what does he? Doesn't even try a second time! Doesn't touch me FOR WEEKS! Turns to the Warriors Three and to … YOU! Behind my back!“

Consumed by the eruption of her speech Loki can't do anything but stare at Sif wide eyed; that close her face claims every tiny piece of his attention. Thor gets very still crouching beside his knees meanwhile, his mouth as motionless as a childs one round a stolen candy.

But Loki doesn't notice. Loki's but too daunted by Sif leaning into him only a breath away; danger personified. Closeness doesn't help to read one's mind, does it? She doesn't see his sins carefully hidden in his eyes?

Sifs chest heaves with angry passion. But then she backs a pace away, sighs utterly unhappy and rubs her face with her palms. „I just don't know! Maybe it is the nearing coronation … I'm sure now the idiot wants to come up with something special. Something totally strange and … special.“ At this she wrinkles her nose in disgust.

And then, against all angst, the Tricksters brain starts to work again. _For weeks._ Suddenly Loki feels sick.

Some weeks ago he started to stay away from his brother. A shiver runs down his spine. A cold and uncomfortable one. He feels everything too clear again that moment; the chill across his skin, the lips, the heat, the slick tongue cradling him, the pressure of this big, raw hand against his back. When had Thor slung his right leg round Lokis left? Nine, that's Thors proud, hard length pressing through both their trousers against Lokis shin, isn't it?

_So you can't do her if you don't do me?_

„Loki ...“ Sifs voice seems like a strange sound to him before he actually manages to notice that it's her. He looks up and blushes. „Say ... you won't tell anyone, will you? I don't think Fandral knows as much as you. You won't tell anyone, will you?“

Does she really beg? Does the strong, the arrogant, the proud Lady Sif really beg him not to tell anyone that Thor can't sleep with her if he doesn't suck his brothers, _his_ dick before? Is Loki really standing here between them, hiding one from the other?

„I won't.“

She smiles in relief. Lokis smile is all mechanical and absent. But like Sif Thor relaxes, too. His mouth softens into a gentler rhythm now, almost into a kiss, his fingers slowly caressing Lokis cool, cool skin, spending him warmth, making him dizzy in that warmth ...

This isn't good. This is extremely far from good. Too sweet, far too delicious, far too good for being good. Deeply seduced Loki feels his heavenly tortured flesh give an unhealthy throb. Almost too late he silences a pleading sigh rolling through his throat. His whole body feels like pulling down to that warm touch, yearning so bad to finally melt into it.

_You can't do her if you don't ... ?_

Bewilderment makes Loki lick his dry, pale lips and shove every creepy thought aside but one: _She's not yet gone._

Secretly his left hand finds its way down under the table. He needs to hold Thor back somehow. This way he won't be able to keep his mask up for the Lady any longer.

That instant she looks one second time at the distant windows fixed in curves of iron. She sighs, relaxing her shoulders, turning around to leave ...

A few moments and she'd be gone. Loki needs to hold Thor back just a few more moments.

_Don't make me come in front of her._

But as Lokis hand finds and grips the side of Thors strong and rawly stubbled jaw he directly regrets it; feeling his brothers mouth work, the muscles tighten and loosen and tighten again, touching it from the outside is that strangely intense he can barely resist the sudden urge to claw with all his fingers onto Thors head and thrust as deep into that throat as possible.

Oh, how long he'd resisted that urge. All the many times. Never before did he dare to touch Thors cheek, though. And now he cannot bring himself to pull his hand away.

 _One, two, three,_ Sifs steps are slowly getting faster, _four, five,_ leading her down to the library gates. She's got some way to go yet, though. Loki, following her with his eyes, glassy with lust, claws desperately into Thors face and whimpers.

And Thor loves it. Suddenly he sucks Lokis throbbing length into his cheek and shifts it just perfectly to precisely procure from under his skin into Lokis palm.

_Six, seven ..._

A confused second long Loki stares down and fingers that hard bulge under Thors skin – until, with a deafening screech in his ears, he realizes that he's touching himself.

_Eight._

That's just too much to take. Even too much to come. Freaked out he rips his hand away and feels only a painful cramp bite into him.

_Why am I letting him do this to me? Haven't I fought to wake from this nightmare?_

Oh, cruel that Loki's bound to keep this farce hidden from Sif! He'd just SO love to tear Thors every hair out of his ugly head! His fingers twitch with repressed violence. But he just cannot do a thing.

_Nine, ten._

_Fine,_ he thinks. _So I can't hurt you with my hands. But I can hurt you with my words._ Loki remembers well the day when he confronted Thor; as he told him then that he felt abused by his doing there came through the mists of Thors weak brain a shimmer of shock and guilt to crawl into his stupid eyes. His stupid, stupid eyes.

Thus a gloomy plan comes to Lokis mind.

„Sif ... wait.“

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Love you so much, my pretty readers :3 the chapter following this one will finally give a top to this touchy threesome situation. It'll be epic, that's promised!


	13. To tease the thunder

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here we go again, loveliest! Hope you like what you read ;) <3

 

 

 

"Sif, wait."

She halts and turns her head around. Loki sighs in fake compassion. She waits. And Thor, surprised, waits, too.

Loki takes a deep breath in. _This is my moment._ To finally make clear what all this really is to him. He takes a risk. This Loki knows. The first and only time he tried to get it out he ended up being almost strangled by Thor. But he didn't use his words precisely enough back then. He'll use them like a knife now.

„I know that you're a warrior. I know that you're strong. But don't forget that Thor's stronger. There is no arguing with him and no winning a fight“, he says, laying the fundament of his message, knowing that the one supposed to hear it is clearly listening. He pauses as if to choose his next words most carefully. What a tightrope walk! Talking to two persons the same time while meaning two different things … tricking Sif's an easy task of course, but regarding Thor a tiny doubt steals into his mind – will the dunce even understand? - ah, Loki shakes it off, too eager to once in a lifetime really hurt his brother. _He'll know. I'll finally tear his little fantasy of us playing a game apart._

Clearing his throat like an actor just before entering the stage Loki treasures this last second before his great performance.

„Whatever it is he wants to urge you to … do not let pride keep you from escaping rape. Run from him and hide away if you must.“

_Like I did._

A silence falls between them. All of them. Loki gulps, his eyes wandering from left to right and back again, waiting for any reaction to his words. From any side. But all is still. Thor is still. And so a tiny, most sardonic triumph starts to flutter wildly in Lokis chest, to blow itself up boisterously. _Yes, like I did. You got me right. How does that taste, brother?_

For a heartbeat long Sifs eyes hush sweetly moved to the ground. She really thinks this worried warning's meant for her. Of course she does. She doesn't need it, though. As she looks up she already turns around again and laughs over her shoulder: „Since when do you care about anyone but yourself, Silvertongue? Don't you worry, I'll be fine.“

He blesses her with his prettiest smile, eager to glimpse down his chest. Loki lusts to look into his brothers eyes the instant they finally _see_. He feels Thor gulp around him. Hesitating? Ashamed? Horrified by the truth? Perhaps, perhaps? The mere thought makes Loki lick his lips and close his eyes in a sudden shiver of pleasure, feeling his overstrung length tingle in a completely new way.

That one word must be slowly sinking into Thors dull head. Slowly but inexorable.

_RAPE. Raperaperape..._

Nine, this is so good. Loki can't wait to see his brother fill up lakes with sorry tears! Oh, how he'll laugh at Asgards future king! He shoots Sif one last glance to make sure she's on the go...

And then a distant thunder rolls through the skies. An angry one, dark and mad and hurt and insulted. But far from sorry.

„That'll be him I presume“, Sif chats without even stopping her walk. Lokis eyes widen. Too late he realizes that there's that _thing_ he should have thought about before performing his oh so daring speech: The simple fact that his body is literally in his brothers … well, mouth.

The thunder storms all over them, roaring above the library. Ready to punish.

„OH, NINE“, Loki groans full throated as a flash of lightning explodes in the clouds and _inside_ of him, jerking cruelly up his spine. His eyes sting with a sudden flood of tears and a cry of pain bursts out of him as he bows under a pang suddenly ripping up his body.

There are teeth. Adamant and sharp and without mercy. It's as ridiculous as effective; Thor bites him.

Lokis hands shove some of the many books from the table as he tries to claw into them. His forehead thrown upon one leather bound tome the vision of his open eyes whites out. The books dash hard to the ground and there are steps rushing in, someone calling his name. Gods, that _chewing_ and that iron flash of pain screaming and pulsing from the middle of his body to just everywhere...

His cramping lungs sob desperately for air as Sif cannons into the book stacked table to exactly where she stood just moments ago. The Nine know why she doesn't run around to Lokis side to support him in this sudden agony. Instead she grips his wrists from opposite, calling his name, trying to shake the panting man back to consciousness.

„LOKI! Are you alright? It's the magic, isn't it? LOKI?“

But it doesn't help. A new shock makes his trembling figure writhe and ache and groan such a wretched howl it almost makes her back away. But his hands cling to her arms, clenching around them like in naked fear of death. He'd fall. He'd fall right over if he didn't cling to anything supporting now.

„I'm sorry“, Loki whines. „I'm sorry, sorry, sorry...“

Another angry thunderbolt rocks through the heavy sky, splitting the dark clouds. Thor forces his brother to choke on his moans, forces him to spasm in his touch, to toss and turn his head, roll his streaming eyes, regret his poisonous lie. _Rape!_ Thor forces Loki to feel that he wants this and always did, forces him to feel his punishment for denying the truth again.

Pain is lust is pain is lust. There are no differences anymore. Thors mouth is angry. Thors mouth is sweet. _Eat me,_ Loki thinks. But he can't breathe. All he gets out is a voiceless whimper stealing from his cramping tongue.

Grinded and chewed he thankfully stumbles over the aching edge. A final sob bursts out of him as he releases all the burning pressure into a single pumping pain of lust. Teeth scratch, lips suck and tongue and throat swallow him whole. Lokis knees give in. But before he can slip to the floor and out of Sifs grip Thor catches his brother by the hips and stops his fall.

„Loki … ?“ Sifs voice is no more than a helpless whisper. A row of pants is his reply. As these die away Loki tries to remember how to speak. Gulping the dryness down his hoarse throat he tries not to realize … everything. And especially that _Sif just held his hands_ as he came in Thors mouth.

He can't look at her. If the worlds survival depended on it; he couldn't look at her now.

„Get me … a healer.“

And she runs. To help, of course. But also as if she couldn't get away soon enough from her lovers creepy brother … and his vicious spells.

When she's gone the storm outside subsides in echoes of rage that slowly seem to disappear in the distance. Loki can barely stand as he presses his eyes shut again. Trembling from tip to toe he longs to be allowed to disappear, too. And still pumping waves of lust and pain ebb away through his every vein, leaving their traces. There's sweat running down his neck.

Somehow this left him emptier than all the times before – and deeply sick. It's truth that makes Loki feel this sick, that makes his senses feel betrayed: The sounds have not been loud enough. His yells have not been free enough. The touches, Nine, cruel and seductive as they were, have left just too much of his skin untouched.

 _Not enough._ Loki fails to gulp down an old shame crawling up his throat. He hasn't ever dared to let it conquer him this way before. But now this grotesque situation leaves him just too weak to fight it. And suddenly everything's crystal clear to him and spinning, spinning, spinning in his head ...

 _Haven't I fought to wake from this nightmare?_ No. Loki always just fought to hide from the truth. That gruesome, bitter, horrifying, scary truth that it's just _never been enough_.

Thor always wanted some – and Loki more.

A quiet smack and Thor lets his brothers bruised and worn out flesh slip out of his mouth – the cold air stings where Thors soft lips slide down his skin. Loki sucks a sharp breath through his nose. And then Thor stands up, lingering close behind him.

„Don't ever make me wait that long again“, the Thunderer grumbles hot into Lokis neck. And for a heartbeat long, a tiny explosion out of a sudden, Loki feels his brothers strong, warm hands grip his weak shoulders like catching a prisoner that broke free. Loki feels Thors chest press into his back like marking him as his, feels Thors hard and hungry flesh still trapped behind rough fabric rub against his bared and sensitive buttocks.

This is more body than he's ever felt. Warm and close and demanding. Pulsing against him. _Into_ him. Too weary Loki wants to comply to this beasts every will.

 _No, I don't want this, I don't want this, I can't want this_ \- do his ethics even now try to scream against the mists clouding his mind. But deep within Loki knows it's a lie. He sighs, letting his head lean back against Thors shoulder. He feels stubbles brush across his cheek. And he'd love to kiss now.

But then Thor slightly pushes him forward to stand on his own again. Backing away he leaves Lokis trembling spine to the cold and kneels down to pull his little brothers trousers up to dress him like a child.

Thor stands up, blowing his breath out through his nostrils like a bull. And then he turns around to steal away. Loki frowns. Without looking up he plainly remarks: „You're not done.“ And after but a few paces Thor stops. But he doesn't say a word. Loki brings himself to meet his brothers eyes.

 _Oh,_ he thinks and draws his eyebrows high up his forehead in sudden understanding. _You want to go to Sif._ He cannot keep from hiccuping into a hysterical giggle.

_So what now? What now that you tortured me? Made me feel just a mere foretaste of what I'll never have? Now that you took what you craved, sucked it from me, stole me empty, fed your own lust with it – now you leave to give it TO HER?_

The whole situation's just too insane. Too piteous indeed. He should be hurt. Loki knows he should. But all he feels coiling up his chest is a sick and numb amusement.

And apart from everything … really and by all means; _NOW?_

„So you believe she'll be in the mood? Thinking your brother's kind of dying here she'll come along to get me some help and then disappear all horny round the next bookshelf with you?“ And Loki bursts out into a harsh laughter. _Ridiculous._

„I DON'T SEE WHAT'S SO FUNNY“, Thor booms, face red like a burning coal.

„Now THAT'S finally right, you don't SEE! You don't see ANYTHING!“

The tempest up above the library growls closer again. Thors face is a grimace and his fists shake as he lets out an angry groan. But he turns around again. He doesn't come too far, though.

„Don't you DARE leave me like that!“

„And don't YOU dare tell me what to to!“

Thor storms right back into his brother to tower impressively broad and strong and mad above him. But Loki doesn't jerk away, stares up at him in a dark, dark fever; fighting it doesn't matter anymore. It's been too late long ago anyways. It doesn't even matter that he'll probably hate himself for it soon.

Pressing his hips against Thors Loki greedily claws into his brothers shoulders owing him so much hold. Dangerously tender he rolls his lap into this impossible size of that clearly hungry flesh, shoving it between his thighs. Pain stings his bruised length at the friction. But this pain wakes new life, is a spark to lighten a new flame. Two mouths breathe closely into one another, but they don't dare to kiss. Not yet. Not yet. Two voices and a moan, a sigh...

It's been too late long ago anyways.

„Take me somewhere no one hears me.“

The golden Prince smiles at his brothers whispered plea. Thus he grips around him and reaches out into the air for Mjolnir to storm into his free hand, bringing thunder and roaring winds into the library as its companions. Loki slings his arms around Thors neck and shuts his eyes as he presses his face against him.

Books fly around, their pages flapping wildly. Iron gives in under their figures pulled away by Mjolnirs might, glass crushes and splinters glisten brightly as the they rush into the open sky.

 

.

 

.

 

.

 

When Sif enters the library, a healer and the Warriors Three following her, she finds it empty and in a complete chaos. Loki's gone. And these many books on the floor, all these book! The grand window at the end of the hall is totally broken. Didn't the Trickster say he fixed it with his magic?

However, so much for vicious spells.

 


	14. Returning changed

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Short one due to fucking lack of time - I hope you are not too disappointed, my dears! This is mere a suggestion of what direction the fic shall take from here on. Besides some smexiness I urgently want drama and I desperately want feels. And what I really, really want is to understand Thors view of the whole thing! So next one will be from Thors view I guess. Tell me what you think so far!

 

 

 

They've been away for a while. The sky turned dark and silent like a deep bruise long ago. They've been away for some time.

The brothers rush completely unnoticed down towards Asgards roofs slightly shimmering in the stars light. All is still. And all are fast asleep. Thor feels his brother cling wearily unto him. He must support him tight around his waist or otherwise he'd crash freefall down to the faraway ground like a dead bird. Loki's not asleep, though, this Thor knows. He's tired. They both are. So they just don't speak. And no thunder growls behind the princes flight, no flash shoots ahead to where Mjolnir leads. Only Thors red coat soughs round his shoulders, heavily flapping against the nights cold winds.

They land upon a wide balcony which leads down into hallways and corridors flanked by many living quarters; Lokis chambers are not far from here. Thor hears his brothers boots rasp sharply across the stone floor as he tries to make him stand. Thor gulps and tightens his grip even more round Lokis body, his throat dry like never before. But Loki doesn't stumble again. A heartbeat long they remain like this; strangely misplaced statues in the dark, only their silhouettes visible as black against an almost black sky.

Thor desperately wants to say something. Just to break this quiet rhythm of his brothers quivering breath against his chest. Though it's too weak to reach through the fabric of Thors tunic he feels like it claws right through his skin. He wants to say stupid things, honest things, painful things. Just to hear anything. For Thor has never felt that deaf before.

Loki lets go of him out of a complete sudden; his hands just fall down to his sides and leave Thors neck freezing against the cold. A stitch rips through the Thunderers chest as he watches his brothers face lift just so slightly; that new angle makes it whiten in the stars shimmer. And Thor finds himself terrified by the sight. By the fact that this is simply Lokis face. So violently familiar, so normal in a most cruel way. And Thor cannot put a finger on it, but somehow he _knows_ that it should have changed. Loki should have changed. Somehow.

Thors eyes are wide, his brows wrinkled in helplessness as he holds his breath and focuses on Lokis lowered eyelids. He couldn't bear his brother looking up at him now. He wants to run, to flee, to hide away, no matter if Loki'd be able to stand on his own or if he'd just fall over like a doll. The golden prince of Asgard knows he'd die if his little brother looked up at him now. And awaiting the worst he cannot move.

But Loki is gracious; after moments of gathering his strength he just pulls his eyebrows up his forehead and clicks his tongue like giving up his pride, his eyes still fixed to the ground. And then, without a word, he shoves Thors arm off his back, turns around and starts to hobble down the corridor with miserably trying steps. He doesn't give a sound. Not even a quiet gasp.

Thor cannot keep his bewildered eyes from following Lokis awkward movements down into the shades of distance. There are no tears, though. Nothing to illustrate Thors feelings deep within. There are no feelings anyways, aren't there? Only that numbing cold hollowing out his ribcage.

He doesn't know how long it takes Loki to reach his chambers. He doesn't know when he forgets to breathe and doesn't remember to even as his lungs want to explode. But when the distant sound of a carefully closed door clinks through his ears into his mind to understand its meaning Loki has long disappeared from his sight.

Thor pants a greedy breath in and Mjolnir clanks to the floor with an absurdly loud, metallic echo as he realizes that it's over.

 


	15. The mountain

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Some candy to sweeten your weekend ~ a chapter as long as two! Probably not perfectly free from grammerrors, but still; you should really consider loving me for it :D

 

 

 

It's NOT over.

That mess, that nameless catastrophe, no, tragedy, it threw itself upon the brothers without warning … and it will never be over again. Nothing could make it all undone. No door Loki closes behind him, no miles Thor runs away. No distance and no silence and no childish hopes will ever make it all undone; what happened today was NOT WHAT THEY DO. It was something wrong. And it's not over. No. Thor feels it.

The water's burning hot. And no matter how long it washes against his skin Thor doesn't get used to it. It should help his muscles melt out of their tension. But it doesn't. He sits like this for half an hour now. It burns and burns and burns around him with softly licking waves. But nothing seems to be able to ease that chill sitting deep withing the golden prince of Asgard.

_It was not what we do..._

Somehow he desperately thought the hot springs of the palace would help him shake off everything. So his steps led him here directly after he'd brought Loki home. A lone walker he was tonight, no one to be seen and to be seeing him, he found himself rip off his clothes the instant the damping pools appeared in front of him. A trail of boots and trousers and tunics lead him to his aim. And when he sat his first step into that delicious brew his whole body tingled with cramps; he was like a wounded bull running for shelter. But wounded? He? No. Not on the outside.

The crusted blood upon Thors skin was not his own.

When he started off the library Thor triumphed through the skies like a real god. He felt like having won a game – _Lokis game_ – against Loki.

He'd finally made his brother admit that he, too, wants what they do. Thor always knew anyways. And it was and always will be a mystery to him what devil urges his brother to deny it time and again. Making him hungry with that Hide and Seek just to call him a rapist? That must've been one of Lokis stranger jokes. Thor never had the wits to understand them. But however, it made him angry enough to punish Loki for it – and it made him feel insulted enough to just want to disappear from his brother unsatisfied. _Be it so,_ he thought that instant, _let none of us get what they need._ Biting Loki over the edge was none of their most pleasant moments of course. But Thor wasn't in the mood for a pleasant sequel anymore.

And this finally made Loki ask for it. _Beg_ for it. And that said IT ALL! Thor felt his heart leap so hard when Loki openly gave in! Gave up.

At least that's what he thought _then_.

Crouching in the hot springs embrace Thor ruefully groans and lets himself sink deeper into the damping water. The round muscles of his shoulders disappear into the pool, his neck follows closely after and the tips of his hair drink themselves soaking wet. He could fall asleep like this. Oh yes, a heavy weariness comes over the Thunderer out of a sudden ... making him long to just die away into it … but as he shuts his eyes, as his ears fill with water, as he feels his whole figure drown in a fluid that heated it wouldn't be much different in a mothers comforting womb – the memory is still there. And the relentless self-reproach.

 _How could I be that blind?_ Loki didn't beg for what they do. Loki wanted … something else. And Thor didn't see it, didn't sense it all along. _How could I be that BLIND?_

Thor literally took Loki somewhere no one would ever hear him. In his flush he didn't really think about where exactly he took his brother. They just stormed higher and higher. And ended up on a mountaintop.

The stone was of that purple gray smelling like chalk. There were no plants anywhere and though the sun stood high and light above them the breeze was very, very chilly. They were above everything, a thick carpet of clouds to their feet.

Thor landed them on an evenly molded stone terrace. In front of them rose the mountains last wall up to the very top. And to the foot of that stonewall was a cave not very deep but wide enough for both of them to find place in it. Almost a comfortable place. Comfortable enough to hide them from the freezing wind.

He wanted to lay Loki down there. And then he wanted to crouch above him like he did the many times before. Thor even felt that thankful for Lokis final agreement that he was utterly eager to nurse his bruised length ever so gently before thinking of himself. He wanted to not just suck him, no. He wanted to warm and stroke and coddle and fondle him with all his mouth could offer. Repay the brutal first time in the faraway library with a most delicious second. Next round then would be completely Thors again.

„Brother“, he called all smiling over his shoulder. He had already taken some keen steps towards the little cave. But when he saw that Loki didn't follow he frowned. Instead his brother had turned him his back and stepped into the other direction to the very edge of the mountains terrace. Staring down into the deep, clouds beneath him, the frosty winds ripped through his raven hair and pulled at him-

Remembering that tiniest moment of uncertainty, of unnamed fear, Thor spurts back up through the waters surface. Frightened at the intensity of this flashback he hides his face in his palms dripping and heated by the hot spring. But the pictures in his mind won't disappear. He feels the chill sting his face like he's not covering it with his damping hands. Feels it like he's still standing up there.

Thor called for him a second time then. And his smile was gone. Now Lokis head stirred up, though, as if he'd not heard the first call. An uncomfortable foreboding shook Thors heart when he watched his brother face him with a look upon his face as inscrutable like never before. It was mere a quick glance Loki shot him before his grand green eyes (and they shone brighter up here on the mountain, didn't they?) wandered away to where Thor wanted them to go – the cave. Some unbelievably long seconds passed whilst Loki examined it from his dangerous spot before he finally stalked towards Thor and away from the edge, his face completely unmoved. Lokis pace was angry when he passed his brothers figure without looking up once.

In the shades of the cave he stood facing the stone wall. And Thor, rushing after him, didn't see it coming when his brother turned around abruptly like a serpent. He didn't expect him to wildly sling his arms around his neck, to shove his spread out fingers through his hair … and he didn't expect Loki to kiss him. To press his lips against his own. To open them so needy. So unrestrained. So ...

A shiver runs down Thors naked spine. His face still hidden behind his hands he finds himself sucking his own tongue ... in remembrance of Lokis.

Thor never felt the need to kiss his brother. Good, once he did, but he didn't _really_ kiss him then. He was totally hysterical and angry when he thought they'd been found out. Totally angry for Loki tried to blame it all on him. He didn't really kiss him then and didn't ever want to after. And he never thought Loki might want to. He just couldn't. He _can't_. For it's madness. It's NOT what they do. Brothers don't kiss. And they are brothers, aren't they?

Up on that mountaintop, however, Loki showed Thor how wrong he'd been about his little brother all along. Oh, Loki showed him ...

What is it making Thor that dizzy? What a strange sensation creeping all over him … _brothers don't kiss like that; lovers do._ And Thor decides it's horror making him dizzy that way. Eyes shut he slides his thumb into his mouth and whimpers.

„Get out of that“, Loki moaned into Thors mouth as his fingers crawled to the front of Thors tunic, clawing and pulling to force it open. The Trickster didn't break his kiss, fevered it even deeper still and sucked Thor down into its abyss. _Silvertongued._ There was a desperate voice in the back of the Thunderers mind, an alarm daring him to STOP as he, too, started to rip his brothers clothes away. _We shouldn't do this,_ rang through his mind. _This is not what we do._ But all left sanity was drowned out by Lokis penetrating sighs; He pressed himself against Thors chest, he rolled into Thors lap. And Thor couldn't fight the attack. He'd just not touched nor had been touched in weeks … and resisting _this_ was just as impossible as resisting the seductions of a cataclysm.

Then they were skin on skin. The chill up here was enormous now. Not even the little cave really changed that. But they had heat to offer each other. And touches never experienced before. Thor remembers well the stinging frost against his back. And he remembers well the burning hands greedily stroking it away. Loki was all too eager to press his every limb as tight as possible against his brother as if to leave no spot of skin untouched. He even slung one leg around Thors as they thrust into each others thighs. And still kissing Thor just fell into this yawing pincers grip until he hammered his brothers back into the stone wall, pinning him there and pressing a harsh yell from his lungs; Loki pulsed hard against Thors stomach.

And Thor found himself shoving his angry lance of flesh between Lokis buttocks. He slid up and down that deliciously warm cleft, feeling Lokis length rub up and down his belly, forced into the same rhythm, into _his_ rhythm. When Thor grasped for his brothers one left standing leg to rip it up his waist, too, nothing could ever have made him stop again. Pressing Loki against the top of a mountain Thor leaned in like a predator to lick up his willing preys throat. He felt his brothers ecstatic cries vibrate against his tongue with every further thrust he hammered him into the stone wall with. And clinging to Thors shoulders Loki came burning hot between their bodies.

Thor didn't stop his pace. He was far from done. So he thrust and thrust and still made Loki move up and down with him, made his whole body move with him until he started to fill with the pressure of even new lust again, smearing his yet hot come across Thor chest.

The Thunderer was close now. He pumped lustfully in Lokis cleft and slicked it through, leaked the first drops of all his pent up lava streams brooding to explode from him. The instant Lokis tip pushed one deep time into Thors navel it was enough for both of them; Thor came with a howl and Loki with a whimper as Thor splashed his liquid fire all up Lokis spine. Thors hips gave out their final thrusts and made Lokis body slide some last times up and down the caves wall. The skin of his back gave sinfully smacking sounds as it slid all stained and wet across the rocks surface.

Shivering in his aftermath Thor still panted like a bull when he felt a soft cheek lay against his temple. Loki breathed into his hair. Loki placed wandering kisses upon him. Weary, cozy kisses, trembling lips opening against the side of Thors face, the tip of a tongue dipping in lazy thirst for pearls of sweat. Every breath a sigh.

His eyes spring open in alarm and his whole body gives a jerk to make the water swash loudly around him as Thor feels himself finger the spot just beside his brow which Loki caressed so painfully sweet. As he realizes how hard he is under the waterss damping surface Thor claws both his hands into each other right before his mouth. He bites into his knuckles to scare the memories and all their unrightful lusts away! AWAY! But they remain inside him, in his bones and veins and muscles. Torturing him. How could he _enjoy_ something this wrong? How can he enjoy _remembering_ it? And how could Loki? Tears blur Thors vision as he thinks of what happened next. How could he possibly ENJOY it? It was NOT WHAT THEY DO. No. It was strange and wrong. It was not what they do.

Thor didn't really want to. It was a mere instinct. An instinct, nothing else! That made him thrust _inside_. It shouldn't scare him that he did but that Loki lured him to. But all he feels is terror that doesn't care what to refer to. And a vicious lust curving his flesh hidden beneath the water.

So he wanted more then. Needed it. And would take it. With a strong movement he slid both his hands behind Lokis back smearing all through his own come. Lokis legs gave in, no longer kept in place round Thors waist and no longer strong enough to cling to it. Thor caught Loki when he sank away and placed him on the ground. And then, long gone in a new fever, he crawled upon his little brother to cover him with all his mighty size.

Loki'd pulled him in for another kiss. But exhausted as he was he didn't have enough force to feed Thors hunger. So Thor just sucked Lokis lazy tongue in with a pace and strength he'd usually use in Lokis lap whenever he was greedy. As he found thrusting between Lokis buttocks was kind of too easy, too smooth now that his cleft soaked wet from Thors come he growled unsatisfied and angry, clawed into his brothers hips to keep them from getting moved by his own, forcing more friction from them. And Loki, tongue stretched and caught in Thors sucking mouth, panted loud and higher, higher sounds, didn't he? Suddenly clinging to his brothers neck Loki grew hard against Thors stomach once more, didn't he? And his spine reared up. And his legs crossed tight behind Thors back again. And then the angle changed. Thor didn't intend to. Thor didn't mean to bury his proud iron length in him. There'd just been suddenly that tiniest entrance. And he was greedy enough to force _every_ door open now.

So with one violent thrust Thor ripped Loki open.

At the mere thought of it he closes his eyes and whines. His hands wander down through the water to find his throbbing length caressed but too slightly by the pools burning waves. And his grasp closes around himself, around that cursed weapon of his. To squeeze the wrong lust out of it. To rip it off if needed! But not to remember … not to desperately try to imitate that feeling. No …

His fingers press down without mercy. Tight. Tighter. _Tighter_. And Thor moans into the lonely night.

He forgot his name once he entered _that place_. Clenching around him this impossibly tight the prince who feared becoming king felt what he hadn't felt in a too long time; safe. If any sound burst out of his brother then Thor wouldn't have ever noticed. His heart skipped a thousand beats and his vision whited away and his ears rang with deafness. And he came like an eruption.

He didn't slide out again. He wouldn't have if the world depended on it. For _his_ world depended on it. All Thor knew from now on was that all his lifes meaning was to _get inside_. To get _deeper_. The frost was biting and scratching his skin. But he'd found a door to escape. A room burning his fears away. And he needed to just _completely_ get inside _that room_. Freezing and sweating the golden prince of Asgard lost himself in a monstrous flush, lost himself in his very brothers body.

Suddenly - Nine, when did that happen? - as he wildly bucks his hips into his own grasp, the absurd terror of releasing into the pool makes Thor jump up. The silly thought of it being _too small_ to take what he'll be giving soon races through his mind. He feels that explosive mass typical to him rumble in the back of his lap ready to flood the world. So as he stands, the water reaching over his knees but not high enough to cover his fists madly pumping his long, thick self, Thor roars in lust and whimpers in shame. But as much as he should hate himself for it … he can't stop loving to remember all these terrible, terribly delicious wrongs. His body has always been stronger than his mind.

One fevered glance down makes him realize just how much flesh he is; both his grand fists squeezing so tight aren't even enough to cover all his length. Every further thrust followed by a groan he tries to imagine how he'd shoved all this flesh into Loki. And all that flooded from it.

_Brother. I'm sorry, brother._

As he comes his hips won't stop spasming, he shoots that ocean of lust slashing from his flesh out into the hot spring in recurring blows. He can't stop panting. He can't. Not even as he weakens into a peaceful rest within his hands. He can't stop panting til he sobs as he stares down into the water and the great, white puddle reaming down the surface. _So much._ And this is just what remained him after he came so many times earlier today. So many times. With all his size and force.

Closing his eyes a sudden vision flashes back into him with a violent clearness; there's Loki beneath him, his eyes shut, his cheeks flushed and his mouth wide open. Dark hair clings wet to his temples and his throat glistens with sweat. That bared chest is so very, very white. And the moans, oh these moans! Are they stricken with bliss … or with gruesome pain?

Thor doesn't remember now how often he'd raced himself to brim over in Loki. Two times he fell asleep just to thrust even harder when he woke up again. There was that voice in the distance, someones echoing cries growing louder and higher around him. Loki must have come time and again. Now and then Thor noticed at the edge of his consciousness that something hot splashed against his stomach. Then there were sobs. And when somewhen there was nothing Thor slowly regained his senses.

_Why did you make me do this to you?_

Thors knees give in and splash back into the pool once more as he bursts out into bitter tears of regret. Oh, lately he hasn't been the big brother Loki would have needed! He should have seen his brothers confusion, his madness! Signs of it must have been there even before Thor turned to him with his own silly problems. But he was too busy with himself to see through Loki ... who would have needed his advice and guidance urgently as it seems.

He must have known it. This didn't just _happen_. Loki must have wanted it for some time now. Didn't he starve Thor whilst keeping away from him for weeks? Didn't he make him angry to even feed his temper? And didn't he lure him then with the simplest and most arousing way to seduce? Didn't he _beg_? Loki never begs. And Loki doesn't ever let anything just happen in his life. He always knew how hard it is for Thor to keep himself in control. In every way. Loki knew.

Somewhen he must have gotten wrong what they do. Somehow it must have raised a perverted need within him, possibly sleeping there ever since. Like an illness. Something must have made him cross the line. For there's a clear line between what they do and what they did today. Yes. There is. To Thor there is a difference (though he couldn't put a finger on it). Instead of helping his brother, though, he let himself be manipulated into supporting Lokis insanity. And he didn't notice. Too heavy his fear of the throne and the urge to distract himself from it weighed upon him. He couldn't see anything else. He, bound to be king, and not only a king but one to rule the greatest of worlds, shouldn't have ever been that WEAK!

Later on the mountain he found himself weary and limp but still buried deep inside his brother. His hands and feet were brutally cold and stinging as he tried to move them; all around had fallen into the darkness of night. And he found Loki pale like ashes beneath himself, trembling from tip to toe, teeth chattering.

A sudden shock of remorse made Thor cry and cry the bitterest tears he'd ever shed. Cupping his little brothers face in his trembling palms he couldn't stop blubbering out how sorry he was and almost suffocated for at least three times. He hadn't even seen the _blood_ then. Loki wasn't asleep. But he fiercely refused to look into Thors pitiful eyes. He just stared up into nothing. Whenever Thor wanted to carefully shift Lokis head to meet his gaze he found his brother press his lids and lips tightly together and frown. No word would leave his mouth. Not a single word.

Thor stumbled around like blind in his tears then, gathering Lokis clothes and his own. He dressed his brother ever so carefully as he lay silently on the ground. But as gentle as Thor tried to be he couldn't keep Loki from aching: He gave shouts twisted with worst pain. He slugged down his whines. Then he rolled onto his side and curled into a ball. And Thor crouched beside him and sobbed and sobbed and sobbed.

They stayed like that for what felt like eternities; it must have been at least two hours. Thor'd fallen into a bewildered silence by now. Then he noticed a movement beside him and his head stirred up in alarm. Loki tried to get to his feet. Thor rushed to support his abused brother and he did well. But immediately his eyes filled with tears again and he found himself unable to keep from whimpering endless apologies. When Loki finally, finally stood he didn't look at him still.

„STOP bawling“, he shouted unnerved. And Thor jerked at the sharp hoarseness of Lokis voice. „I can't STAND it anymore! No one's the actual piss blaming you! I wanted it. I got it. End of the story.“

And then; silence. Thor just stared. Stared at how Lokis face swam away in the veil of his useless tears. And he understood what he would never have wanted to understand.

„Take me home“, Loki plainly added. And Thor didn't dare but obey.

 _I'll make it alright, brother dear,_ the future king of Asgard swears to himself cowering in the hot spring, in the clouds of damp, in his great feeling of guilt. _Now that I finally see what evil haunts you I'll save you from it. And if it's the last thing I do; I will help you._

 

 

 


	16. Hurt

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm sorrysorrysorry for having been off too long, my dearies! But nonetheless, here we go with some new stuff. Don't hate me! I need your love to survive D: *diesinacorner*

 

 

 

And so prince Loki of Asgard appears to experience the cruelest pain he ever felt in his entire life. The world is black around him, black and still. There's nothing but his closed eyelids to his sight. There's nothing left but pain. It aches deeply in his pride and soul. In his scratched open back. In his horribly bruised hips. His nastily abused manhood. And, yes, All Nine, his goddamned ass.

_Mother Nature didn't design me for this._

Loki'd heard about these methods. Of men lying with men. But he'd not ever really listened. And he'd laughed at the mere thought of it. He didn't think things like these even _possible_. And when he wanted Thor to take him on the mountaintop the least to appear in his mind was … well.

Loki didn't move an inch since he'd struggled to hobble away from his brother, since he'd managed, the Nine know how, to lay his sore body down under his sheets and to arrange his useless limbs to sink into a kind of bearable position. Not on his back, Nine, behold! The mere try made him yelp and jerk and shed hysterical tears stinging his eyes like needles. And though he had many reasons to cry that instant he really and simply cried for that bestially, ugly PAIN rushing through his body. He hadn't cried due to physical pain in years. But this felt like an iron pulse roaring into him with all its mighty, frightening howls, singing: _You'll never be able to sit again._

He didn't have the strength to take his clothes off. Not even his boots. That felt uncomfortably strange under his blanket first. And whilst nights last hours it bestowed some utterly horrifying half-dreams to him of the incredible need to get all this heavy gear away but not being able to – for he couldn't move. And for he'd freeze to death by any mean draught slipping under his sheets if he could.

Even now Loki is cold. He opens his eyes for he cannot sleep peacefully anyways. Staring wearily at the wall bathed in the morning suns first red he tries to focus on healing. But his magic doesn't work wonders. He may be able to speed up the process of natural healing, but he can't just make his wounds disappear. What would probably take weeks to get better he can pull of in days of course. But right now that almost makes it worse for him; bruises tend to hurt even more after some time passed compared to fresh ones. So now Loki feels like beaten up by ten frost giants icy fists. And the chills that crawled completely into him up on the mountaintop just won't leave his body, his mind. Yes, even now Loki is like frozen in the memory of what happened.

Worst is _that he wanted it._

He didn't have a precise idea of what _exactly_ he wanted. Touches of course. Kisses. His body ached furiously to be finally really pleased. But there was something else, too. And now he sees all through himself with a shame every word would fail to express. He didn't imagine how high the price would be he'd have to pay for this. He didn't know how much he's actually capable of hating himself.

A poisonous sting runs through his throat. Again.

_I should have jumped that instant I stood staring down the mountain._

It's just that Loki has never been wanted. But Thor has been ever since. Adored. Loved. Celebrated. Yes. Seems a tiny part in Loki had maniacally hoped to only _once_ steal the worlds attention away in being wanted by that one person who's wanted by the world. _Everyone wants him. And if he'd want me …_ Loki'd secretly thought he could pretend that every living souls attention would flow right through Thor into him. But of course it doesn't work that way.

He shuts his eyes again and bites his teeth down in shame; he's been ashamed of this so many times tonight.

After their first rush, oh, that wonderfully tasty flush, when Thor laid him down to the floor, Loki felt far too weak to triumph or to push the situation anymore. His body tingled and his muscles slacked with deep, deep satisfaction; he'd come three times by now, he'd screamed his lungs out, he'd rubbed all his skin against skin and he'd drunk himself full with kisses. But when Thor took him again then, grasped him, sucked his tongue greedily out of his mouth, Loki felt himself generously giving in to a higher force. For he was too weary and too soft then to claim anything for himself he just surrendered to be taken as a whole. Only then he felt completely owned. And only then he realized how much he _needed_ it. Someone _wanted_ to own him. Wanted all of him. What a pleasure. What a bliss!

But when suddenly things turned into unexpected … directions, to say so, there came the pain.

Again and again he remembers that pitiful eternity when Thor was no longer Thor but only working flesh above him and when the pain grew more and more unbearable. Loki was too aware of that _things size_ forcing him open. One single ridiculous thought spun endlessly through his fevered mind: _How does Sif survive this hell?_ And then, when he'd gotten aware of the absurdity of the fact that he, Loki, a man and Thors BROTHER, wondered why he couldn't handle being laid like this … he burst out into a desperate giggle as Thor thrust into, into, into him.

The only thing keeping his lust alive then was _that spot._ Loki hadn't known where he'd secretly craved to be touched. All along it must have been this spot hidden inside.

 _Yes,_ he tried to shout the first time Thor hit it as he remembers now. But he failed into a wordless pleading moan. _Slash me into pieces, tear me open, dismember me. Just touch me there once more. One more time._ And Thors every next blow would bruise him. It would miss Lokis center of hopeless need too many times. But then it would brush it. And then hit it hard. Loki would beg for it, plea without pride, without a single word. He'd moan and sob and cry for it. _One more time. Just one more time._

There were moments, just a few seconds long, when Loki felt his mind grow crystal clear in his fever. These moments made him understand everything. Like what they do and why. These moments made him understand that this pain he felt was one most beautiful thing. Because it's an unsound affair for an asgardian man to lie under a man and especially to lie under his _very brother_ Loki suddenly perceived this lashing as a blessed gift. While it allowed him his inner cravings fulfillment it also purified him from it. And it hurt so screamingly bad. So beautifully bad.

He doesn't remember now … when he came, did he come for the pain of lust or the lust of pain?

But however, like every fever is doomed to lead into chills, this one, too, lost its fire somewhen. After he'd long given all his body had to offer and after he'd fought and cramped and wept and finally laid still like dead beneath this animal his brother had become Loki felt an icy numbness take over him. That part of Loki which had always loved the melodramatic was completely sure that Death was reaching out.

When Thor eventually woke from his madness Loki was far away from himself. But not far enough, it seemed, to escape his brothers torturing and screeching sobs of horror. Thor babbled. So loud. So near. SO MUCH.

 _Don't talk to me, I'm dead,_ he wanted to tell his perfectly terrified brother. But Loki found himself unable to speak; shame kills ones voice. But Thor talked, called, yelled in tears. And when he'd used all words and had no more left Thor wept and sobbed and just wouldn't stop. Loki hated it. And he hated Thor for he couldn't hate him – crying and sorry and destroyed as his brute of a brother was Loki felt nothing but … sorry.

So he just lay there as he lays now curled onto his side, trying to keep on breathing. And he didn't know then anymore: which of them started this perversion? Which of them was really to blame?

Wasn't it Loki who dared Thor to get on his knees when he asked for nothing but his thumb? Didn't Loki dream that dream of Thor calling him into the shadows and sucking him there in a completely new, completely lustful way? And didn't he think of Thor when he touched himself? Didn't the bare vision of his very brothers face make him come then? And when Thor stayed away from him … didn't he manipulate him to return?

Perhaps. Yes, probably … probably it's always been all Lokis fault right from the start.

 _Perhaps,_ his weary mind muses, _perhaps ..._

And this is how he falls into a deep and warmly dull sleep for the first time tonight, now that night is finally over and the morning growing lighter around him. Eyes rolling lazily under his heavy lids, brows slackening down and melting away his foreheads sorrow lines, lips parting dry and white Loki is gone. Finally far enough to escape.

 


	17. Of pralines and bruises

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So I had to split up the content I planned to put into this chapter for while writing the text just grew longer and longer. We are at finally 21 chapters now (and I think that will do), so kinda nearing the end with nr. 17!
> 
> Fluff is in the air. And a bit of my beloved Fandral. Prepare yourselves ;D

 

 

 

How do you wake someone up whose dearly needed rest you don't really want to break? Rolling a praline in his fingers Thor sits on the edge of Lokis bed and still can't seem to make up his mind about this matter.

Asgard was already beautifully lit by the early rays of the sun and the air smelled like spring when Thor finally managed to find the courage to come up to his brothers rooms. A little wooden box in his nervous big hands he swallowed down a deep breath in front of the door. _How am I to master such a task?_ He'd thought all possible ways of starting this conversation through. None of them made him feel secure. But at least he brought these sweets with him; if you want to calm Loki bring him sweets. And Thor feared he'd absolutely have to calm his brother once he'd start to talk it over with him. To talk it _all_ over. But there was no running from it now. This time Thor would be what he should have been all along; Lokis strong and helpful and reliable big brother. He knocked then: No reply. And so he just opened the door and stepped inside to find Loki fast asleep and curled into a perfect ball under his blindingly white sheets, only half of his weary face and a mess of raven hair to be seen.

Shutting the door with a discreet but clearly hearable 'whump' didn't disturb Loki in the least. Noisily clearing his throat didn't help either. And all Thors _Pssst!_ s and _Loki?_ s stayed unanswered, too. His brother didn't even snore in faint recognition of the visitor, just kept breathing deep and slow in a dreamless slumber.

Thor frowned and sighed and insecurely sat down beside Lokis knees on the edge of the bed. He wondered if he should try to shake the sleepers shoulder. But something held him back from touching Loki. Instead he picked the blankets edge up from his brothers face with but two fingers and pulled it away from nose and mouth and chin hidden beneath. Then he took out one of these candies he'd brought with him in that tiny box – a marzipan filled nougat ball bedded in a thick caramelized coat covered in tons of powdered sugar; the good stuff, you know – and held it under Lokis nostrils, waiting for the sweet smell to work its magic. Maybe, if nothing else, _this_ would work. Lokis next breath however made him suck in a very lot of just named powdered sugar – and sneeze like a sharp tornado. But he didn't wake up still.

Thor couldn't help but heartily chuckle at this, giggle all the pressure out until his belly ached. Laughing tears blinding him he sighed and eyed his ignorantly kipping brother.

Now there he sits and smiles down into his hand to watch how his fingers idly roll the praline round its own axis. The sneeze attack blew all its white dress away but mercifully left it dry and cozy to be still considered wonderfully eatable. This is just SO Loki. And this is just so _them_. Whatever happened on that mountaintop feels like eternities ago. _I will make it alright, brother. Yes._ And Thor knows that, somehow, he really can. Things will only get better now.

Seating the candy back into the box Thors gaze fixes on his brothers face again. _But not now._ He'd let Loki rest as long as he must. Healing his body must have exhausted him. He could come back later. No rush.

The instant, however, he turns away and wants to stand up and creep out of the room a soft spoken morning voice beside him makes him halt in his movement.

„Am I terminally ill or pregnant?“

Thor stares back at Loki all startled; puffy eyed his brother looks at the box in his hands and tries out a faint smile. Glancing up he then seems to realize Thor didn't get his joke. His eyes quickly fall down again as if they were too shy to handle straight eye contact.

„You brought me sweets?“

„Oh!“, Thor finally says, „Yes. No, it's alright! Just – ah … try one!“ With nervous fingers he takes one very large candy out of his box to push it into Lokis mouth. Whups, it's gone. And Loki, completely taken by surprise, raises his dramatic brows in their most famous angle, letting his eyes ask what his hopelessly plugged mouth can't say: _Now, really, are you mad?_

Thor shakes his head, blushes and smiles: „I'm sorry, brother. It's nothing. We just … need to talk.“

„And sho you shought shealing my moush wish a fisht-shished candy would be a glorioush idea.“

Loki stares at Thor, suddenly in a kind of challenging mood for deadpan humor. And Thor critically stares back, watches his brother copiously chew through the crunchy mantle of the bulky praline to its soft core, watches him watch him and finally but only just gulp down the monstrous sugarbomb. That's when both of them can't withhold from bursting into guffaws of laughter.

Oh, Thor would talk it all over with Loki. And they would be just brothers again.

„Loki“, he sighs. But when he pats his brothers shoulder in his lovingly brute way Loki suddenly squirms and shouts out in pain. Thor rips his hands away in panic.

„WHAT'S WRONG?“

Grimacing Loki presses out: „Nothing, I'm - I am just a bit sore.“

And then it hits Thor like a shock: Loki still hurts from what he did to him. But that doesn't make sense, does it? Loki's good at his magics. He should long have healed his body! He laid still for hours on the mountain. And since Thor brought him home _more_ hours have passed. His wounds should have long disappeared!

„Why didn't you heal, brother?“

„Well, actually“, Loki admits, „I AM healing right now. But I cannot do wonders. That won't just disappear in a single night.“

 _THAT._ Thors heart skips a bitter beat. Suddenly his vision runs right back to the moment when he tried to dress Loki last night. And when he found the cuts on his back where stone had ripped his skin open. And when Thors eyes wandered down, down ... the bruises, the blood. Oh Nine, the blood!

„But once“, he stammers helplessly, „remember, back then when you cut your finger! Remember? I watched you close that cut within moments!“ _It cannot be! His magic must be failing him! It cannot be that I have really hurt him SO much!_

„That was but one single cut, Thor! And it was not a quarter as bad as-“, Loki shuts his mouth and slowly blinks his eyes. Something in Thors gaze must have bewildered him. And then he sighs. „Don't worry, I just need a little time.“

But Thors mind starts to race into hysteria. Panting he stares down into his monstrously big hands holding the little sweets box. He could crush it oh too easily. Like he crushed Loki. And these hands shall be a kings hands? Shouldn't kings hands protect and not destroy? These hands, are they really a monsters hands? Tears veiling his sight Thor cries: „NO!“

He jumps to his feet and rushes to place the pralines besides Lokis head still resting on the pillow. He doesn't notice how his brother jerks away from him, too consumed is he by his mission to make his wrongs undone.

„I'll be back, just wait here for me, brother. I'll be right back!“

„Thor, wha-“

„Wait here! I'll make it alright!“

And then he's gone like the wind, running down Asgards golden corridors with a bright smile on his face. He's got a wonderful idea. Loki probably doesn't know about it because he doesn't do fighting and stuff and thus never needed it. And because the warriors of Asgard are commonly too proud to use it he might never have heard anyone talk about it. But there is that salve the healers have which steals away all physical pain from any kind of wound. Thor would just SO get a pot of that now. Some very seldom times he'd used it himself. And it worked wonderfully.

_Yes. This is exactly what Loki needs now._

But out of a sudden Thors run is stopped. By Fandral turning round a corner and bouncing right into him. „OH“, makes Thor and takes one step back as Fandral lands on the floor.

„Fandral, my friend! Forgive me, I didn't see you“, he says then and smiles, reaching down to help his finely bearded companion back up. Fandral makes a face and blinks like a thousand times as he lets out a groan. But then he's wide awake again.

„Heeeey! Is that really you? Where have you BEEN all night and day? We haven't seen much of you lately, my almost-majesty.“ With his widest smile he bows deep before Thor in an absurdly elegant fashion. _Oh no._ Thor's not really in the mood for a chat with Fandral right now. His feet twitch with hurry. But he can't just flip him out the way and run now that he made his friend bump on his butt, can he?

„I've been up on the top of the possibly highest mountain in Asgard.“

„Now that's nice! As if you knew what horror was raging down here!“

„What do you mean, my friend?“

„Oh, it was nothing, believe me. Sif overreacted to some degree. But really, I have rarely seen her that stressed. She was pretty pissed that she couldn't find you anywhere. And your sneaky, sneaky brother, that bastard.“

 _Uh._ This must have something to do with the library. Thor gulps.

„See, Sif stormed into that library which you visited with Hogs and Lokes yesterday. I think she's kinda pissed that you didn't … well … you know. Guess she thinks you've got a problem in that direction.“

Thors face is a mask. And a shiver runs down his spine very uncomfortable to him.

„But I mean“, Fandral suddenly whispers as he creeps closer, „a guy like me does pretty much understand what's REALLY goin' on there. You're kinda keeping it in, don't you? Yes, yes“, he says, nodding to his own words and blinking a horny eye, „and then in the night of coronation you just BOOM her happy. Nice, really. I must admit that I admire your patience! But I think you started out a bit too early with your plan, my friend. How long have you kept away from her? Seems like she needs it urgently by now. And just think of the weeks you still have to go!“

„Ahm-“

„But that was not even the actual problem!“ Abruptly Fandrals voice is all the same loud noise again. „When she ran into the library for _you_ she found only Loki inside. And then, as she told us, he just started to groan and wince like some crocodile bit off his legs! She held his hands through some kind of terrifying attack! She thought he might be dying! And then she ran to get him a healer. We crossed ways when she was already hurrying back with help. And so we followed her, me too, of course, for I would never have missed something like that! Oh, nononono! Don't you look that shocked, there's NO. Reason. To. Worry. Believe me! Just try and listen – I'll be finished soon: So yeh, we arrived at the library and it was in a total chaos. Books everywhere, that grand window completely broken. And Loki was gone. Sif jumped behind that table to see if he collapsed there. But no one was around. Oh, she freaked SO out then! I didn't really believe this mysterious story right from the start and so I crouched where Loki should have been standing just moments ago. Guess what my curious eyes found on the wooden ground?“

„What?“

„Drops!“

„Hu?“, Thor doesn't get it.

„WHITE drops, Thor! Brilliantly white and fresh like mornings dew! You know what white, that _manly_ white!“

„ … oh.“

„And that's just it! Solved the affair. See, that table is perfectly stacked with books on top and beneath, in front of it no one would ever be able to see what's behind. I tell you what I think of this story: _Blondie_ was hiding under that table. Serving Loki well!“ And Fandral claps heartily into his hands, cackling shamelessly over his own brilliancy. „That would explain the mess, too. I don't know WHAT she did to him, but it must have made him and his magic tricks literally explode! When they heard us they simply crept away like thieves. Told Sif how it went, then, but she didn't want to hear any about it and slapped my face as you can clearly see _here_ “, Fan goes on, turning his left cheek stained with red stripes into Thors sight, „ ... ah, this gets better and better! And I do STILL have no clue to who that sick, orally fixated mistress might -“

Now that's enough.

„STOP GOSSIPING ABOUT MY BROTHER!“ Like a jolt Thor strikes Fandral with his angry words. The perv jerks away wide eyed. „This is FILTHY! And I don't want talks like these to go round the palace! One more word and you'll regret it!“

Fandral gulps, pretty much aware of what force he just woke, but unable to hush at once. He can't just keep from letting one final naughty statement slip from his mouth: „Uh, I didn't regret any of it yet. The whole thing's just pretty entertaining, you know.“

„Then I'll MAKE you regret it.“

And Thors face is red. Fandral gulps once more, knowing he should stop it now. „Forgive me. I seem to tend, ahh ... to forget that you'll be my king, dear friend. I am not going to disappoint you. From this moment on my mouth is sealed.“ He bows quickly and leaves into the direction Thor came from. The prince of Asgard turns his head to glance after the warrior. And there, aside from Fandrals straight back, at the end of the corridor the unexpected sight of Sif makes his heart jump up his throat. But she just stares a meaningful moment long. And then she disappears into a sideway.

Thor shuts his eyes, presses his trembling lids as tight together as possible. _What the actual Hel is going on? This is a mess! A mess!_

But just before he can lose himself in anger and fear and guilt, for he sadly is a good deal responsible for all these crazes, Thor remembers the one and only important thing now: LOKI. Loki lies bruised and hurting in his bed, vicious talks behind his back, and waits for the one person who, manipulated or not, did this all to him to _finally_ return with a goddamned salve that would at least cure the pains of his body. And this very person stands around talking, taking his time?

Oh, how Thor runs now. The very minute he gets his hands on a pot of the salve has not yet passed as he breathlessly rips Lokis door open again, falling into the room with a smile.

 


	18. Coward's Brew

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, my lovely ones, I hope you all had a good start into 2015! 'What They Do' is back once more - this time with a tasty mess of our dearest crackbrained brothers! Enjoy and tell me if you do, I always love your comments :D  
> Yours absolutasticly,
> 
> Pee. Uh, I mean, Bee.

 

 

 

„Thor, you kind of scare me.“ Loki didn't move still. Curled onto his side he makes a long neck to look at the panting mass of his brother throwing the door shut behind his back.

Thor chuckles and proudly holds the pot up he brought with him: „Look what I've got here! This will ease your pain, brother. Your healing will be much more comfortable with it.“

„And what exactly is it?“

„A salve. Worked into a sore spot it goes right through the skin to calm all pains inside.“

Now Lokis eyes widen in recognition: „Oh, then it's Cowards Brew! I remember how you laughed at Volstagg when he used it some years ago! Didn't ever think of it again.“

Smiling like a boasting child Thor sits down on the edge of Lokis bed, the pot in his hands: „But _I_ thought of it!“

„Don't expect a medal for once in a lifetime using your brain“, Loki teases,“ … but thank you.“

„Good“, Thor starts all enthusiastic, „And now off with that!“ A quick move of his hands and he rips the blanked away, leaving Loki like a caterpillar flopped from its cocoon.

Totally taken by surprise Loki yells: „What-wait, you -?“ But Thor doesn't listen.

„You slept with your boots on?“, he asks as he already wants to unbutton Lokis tunic.

„Yes, but-“, shaking his confusion off Loki finally gets to his senses again and claws into his brothers wrists: „Thor, LEAVE it!“

And he obeys, but not without a fat question mark written all over his face.

Loki, nodding to the pot of Cowards Brew, snaps: „I'm gonna do this on my own! And definitely NOT under your eyes.“

At this Thor frowns. „Don't be silly, Loki. You can barely move! I'm gonna help you“, and stubborn as he is his fingers force their way down Lokis tunic again. What makes him fight Thor even wilder. And after some moments of scratching and pulling and struggling Thor just has enough of it.

„WHY can't you just LET ME HELP YOU?“ And he bristles in anger as he faces Lokis toxic gaze. But only Thors helpless tears glistening in his eyes make Loki finally sigh in resignation.

„Fine. But only where I can't put it on myself – like my back.“

„Thank you ......... this won't work, though, if you keep lying on your side.“

And as Thor suddenly wants to roll his brother onto his belly Loki cries out: „NO! DON'T! STOP THAT! I can't lie on my stomach. Remember where you BIT me?“

„Then we'll work the salve in there first!“

„We?“

„Okay, you.“

„So you want me to finger myself in front of you?“

„That's not fingering yours-“

„YOU said it needs to be kneaded into the body.“

„Oh Loki, just-“

„FORGET IT. I'm not gonna work my prick and let you watch.“

Thor frowns, losing his patience. „So you cannot lie on your back and not on your front. You've got to sit then!“ And again his hands want to seize his brother to just turn him round like a doll.

„NOOO!“

Thor has never seen Lokis eyes in such a panic. This time he backs away in horror. Loki, blushing from his own reaction, adds quietly: „I'm afraid I can't sit either.“

And a knowing embarrassment creeps between them, up their backs like snails. But Thor, just in time to not REALLY realize, shakes it all off.

He scratches his head, thinking. „Well, … then try to get on your knees! And keep hold of your bed head so you won't fall over when I work the salve into your back.“

„But-“

„LOKI.“ Thor doesn't leave his brother any further choice now and decides to force his well meant assistance unto him. And when Loki, supported awkwardly but good enough, fought his body into the wanted position and peeled the tunic off his chest Thor examines him proudly and says: „Now, how do you feel?“

Kneeling in his sheets, butt in the air, forearms resting on the filigree wooden carvings Loki hangs bent forward like a bridge. „I am deeply enthralled.“

„Ah, stop that, brother. You must admit this works just fine!“

Loki shakes his head and sighs.

The first thing Thor notices upon Lokis skin are spots of a thin, crumbling, white crust spreading from under the trouser waistband all up the spine. And he wonders for an instant what that might be – but then his head runs burning red. Whilst Thor sat in the hot springs water yesterday it doesn't seem like Loki had the chance to clean himself up. There's not much white left staining his skin, though. The rest of it must be sticking to his clothes inside. Thor gulps in sudden shame.

But when he sees the bruises and the cuts all shame is forgotten. And replaced by a heartfelt guilt. All these shades of purple, blue and green and, yes, fresh red scattered upon his brothers body just feed Thors need to make it all undone. _Loki may have wanted it and used me to get it. But still it was me who did this to him._

And so, like performing a holy mission, Thor opens the pot and takes a great handful of slicky, pasty, transparent cream out of it, smelling like forest herbs, and smears it all across Lokis back. His brother jerks a little at the cold fluid but doesn't complain. Thors eyes pick out a high cervical in Lokis nape, the skin scrubbed sore above it, to be his first healing target. Using rhythmically pressing circles and flinching at Lokis every muted whimper he quickly works his way lower and is very proud of his fingers work.

„You seem pretty familiar to this, brother“, Loki presses out and bites into his cheek, „am I to suspect you secretly make regular use of Cowards Brews services?“

Thor chuckles deep and warm, by now completely lost in his hands duty. „Just shut it up, Silvertongue!“ And Loki joins in with a giggle. Then he breaks into a long, low moan half pained, half eased and shifts his shoulder blades under Thors touch.

„Hhhh … I must admit I didn't really believe this stuff would work … mh!“

„It's good, isn't it?“

„Yes.“

And Thor keeps on working down a slender spine, kneading the spaces between fine ribs, pushing his thumbs deep into skin and muscles where the bruises are the darkest and cuts the roughest. His hands are prickling and pleasantly hot from the salve. Where it hurts the most Loki sucks a sharp breath through his teeth and stiffens tightly under Thors touch. Just to melt soft again and let out a thankful sigh shortly after.

But when Thor stops at Lokis trouser waistband there's a final huge bruise disappearing under it, seeming to run down Lokis side. Thor frowns, slowly shoving his fingers under the fabric that's keeping him from doing his work. Would it be okay if he continued down the hips? Loki could do that himself, but now that Thor's already going … ? He glances up to where his brothers face rests on his forearms. Sleepy eyed and dizzy from the herbal scent surrounding him he doesn't really seem to notice or to care what Thor is doing anymore. So Thor just shrugs his shoulders and without further ado pulls the pants down Lokis buttocks.

Just to expose what he successfully managed not to further think about until now. And the exact reason why Loki said he can't sit.

There's scab crusting all his cleft, not thick but widely spread. Remainders of last nights blood. A heartbeat long Thor feels himself buried inside there again. His length gives a delicious throb, reminding him of how he'd selfishly enjoyed something this horrible. _Oh Nine._

So instead of nursing the bruised hip Thor decides that it's more important to ease the pain where it must be the very, very worst. Getting a new load of salve he takes a shaky breath in and tries to prepare his unsettled mind for just omitting Lokis terms of the deal: _Only where I can't put it on myself._

„This is probably going to hurt a bit more. But it'll be over soon. Just be brave, brother.“

Now this gets Loki skeptical and so he wants to glance over his shoulder and most likely protest at Thors arbitrary act as soon as he'd realize it. But it's already too late.

The yell Loki loses as Thors fingers press down his sore cleft rings completely unknown in the Thunderers ears. Loki, trying to jerk away but being held by Thors other arm slung around his waist, rips his head as far around as his position allows to stare at his brother perfectly appalled. Thor gulps so sorry as he watches Lokis lips tremble in pain. His fingers stop as he glimpses a tear spring out one of these bewildered pools of eyegreen.

„Be brave, Loki. It won't be long.“

Kneading his way down Thor bites cruelly into his lower lip and tries so hard not to listen to his brothers sobs. He would protest, he would curse, he would probably slap Thor for this. It's not what the deal said, and at all, nothing Loki would _ever_ allow. But, and this realization makes Thor even heavier with guilt, the pain must be bad enough to keep Loki from saving his pride. Glancing up again and again Thor tries, besides the whimpers, to read the cramping of his brothers muscles, indicating if the pain grows weaker. And slowly, sweat on his forehead, fingers working frantically, Thor thinks, hopes to finally sense a betterment in Lokis shaky sighs and the laxing of his back.

Thor gladly closes his eyes and lets his slicky fingers rest for a little while, lets Loki breathe, as the worst seems to be over. Letting go of his brothers waist they both stay still for an endless second.

„Good“, Thor whispers, patting Lokis shivering buttocks.

„I hate you.“

 _And you'll hate me even more_ , Thor thinks, making a most sad face. But then again a kind of melancholic pride flutters within his chest. Isn't this what kings are for? And big brothers anyways? Oh, yes, Prince Thor should always have been helping the weak, even against their own will. That's all King Thor shall be doing. Always.

And so he shoves one finger into Lokis cramping entrance, sliding as much of the healing salve into his brother as he possibly can. The whine he hears leaves Loki choking in tears of horror and disbelief. Again.

„Thor“, Loki pants, his voice breathless, „Stop it. Stop it, please!“

But Thor slides his finger in and out, stuffing Loki with Cowards Brew and working it into his burning inner walls without mercy. Smoothly Thor slides his finger in and out. In and out. And Loki struggles under him, cramps hard around him, too pained to even jerk away from the pain.

But then, slowly, all Lokis flesh grows soft. His breath goes deep and controlled again, weary, but better. Thor, not yet completely sure, fingers him from the inside. And then, directly alarmed, he finds a point that must be horribly sore still; as Thor pushes down into it Lokis whole body flinches and almost collapses into the sheets. Abruptly his brother pants a desperate breath into his lungs and locks it there. Thor only sees Lokis hair. But he'd bet his eyes are wide and light like ice and glassy.

„Thor“, he presses out, begging now, _pleading_ , „not there. Please, NOT there!“

But Thor doesn't want to listen. He came to make it alright. And he'll make it ALL right! So his finger stubbornly works on, pressing, pushing, rubbing, sliding out, getting more salve, sliding in again, focused on this one spot alone. And Loki, subtly and to Thor completely impalpably changed, fights hard not to writhe with every touch, his sounds even more hissed and repressed now, until they all eventually unload in one loud voiced moan clinging through the chamber like a spell.

A sound to remind Thor of … no. _No. No. No._

As he moves on, his hand adamantly working, sweat starts to run down the Thunderers temples. It's strange. The salve should have worked by now. But still Loki responds to every push into that spot. It cannot be _that_ sore, can it? But it must. Every time Thor glances up he finds his brothers spine tremble, and every time he stares onto his finger disappearing in that tiny opening of flesh he hears a sound caught between moaning and gulping down moans. So Thor can't help but hold on. Closing his eyes he just continues thrusting his finger into this fire of a wound a countless times.

Until … he doesn't seem to care about getting the salve into Lokis sore body anymore. Until he only cares for the rhythm. In. Out. Smoothly. So perfectly smooth. Thor wouldn't dare admitting it. But that rhythm warms him from tip to toe, warms sweet, horribly sweet memories to new life. With every _in_ Thors head grows heavier, dizzier. And he opens his eyes to a blurred sight. Watching his glistening finger re- and disappear from and into this sweet, blushed ring makes him too cloudy with lust. And Lokis distant voice can't keep from whimpering a moan. And a moan. And a moan.

Suddenly the soft touch of a trembling hand at his wrist makes Thor look up and back into reality. Lokis muscles tense and lax under the bruised, white skin of his back, shiny from the salve, with every further dip of Thors finger. He halts his movement as it's deep within. Lokis head rests on his one hand clawing into the bed head like for dear life, his hair falling out of his sweaty neck. The other reaches back for Thor like a plea.

„Thor“, falls from Lokis lips, „please.“

Please what? Please don't? Please do it? Do what? Thors bewildered eyes sink back to his finger buried in Lokis flesh. And they sink down to his own lap. Where the great, round head of his secret lust stretches his trousers forcefully up. He didn't realize he grew that hard. Staring at the exact form of himself greeding under the raw fabric Thor imagines freeing the tense curve of his want, he imagines standing up, placing his swollen tip where now his knuckle sticks. And Thor imagines for but a moment how he'd slip only his pulsing tip into _that place_ , being embraced by a tightness clutching around him like a thirsty suction. He could stop after his tip was locked in there. He wouldn't hurt Loki with it. He could just …

No. He wouldn't. He didn't stop yesterday before his everything was down inside. And he wouldn't be able stop now.

Tears filling Thors desperately confused eyes he stares down into his lap, watching himself throb greedily against his trousers, haunted only by the thought of _It's just not what we do._

And when suddenly Loki moves his shoulder blades and arches his overstrung spine Thor feels him clench around his finger. Reminding him of how he clenched around his length last night. Sucking a breath into his lungs Thor watches himself come untouched, a white blotch soaking wider and wider through his trousers til it covers his whole lap in damping heat.

Some heartbeats and he gets to his senses again. Loki, chest heaving and arm trembling from keeping his weight in place, gulps with closed eyes. And Thor, suddenly too aware that his finger is still digging like a foreign body into Lokis private place, suddenly too aware that the salve must _long_ have worked by now, slides out into the cold. And he wonders where Lokis hand has wandered. It's not at his wrist anymore and not back at the bed head. But it doesn't matter. Clearing his throat Thor tries to save the situation and acts like he's just continuing to work the salve into his brothers wounds. Turning to that white and purple hip he wants to get another handful of cream ... and then he sees it; Lokis slender length pierces all raring into nothing but cold air, trembling, waiting, _craving_ to be touched. But there at the base is Lokis hand, his long, white fingers closing around it completely motionless. Not like releasing but like holding back the pressure. Glancing up Thor sees Loki still closed eyed, his brows narrowed in concentration, gulping again to just hold it all back. Loki is desperately close. Thor sees it in the way the veins procure from him, the way they pulse under his white fingertips. Thors tongue remembers every single one of these veins.

For a moment Thor wonders why Loki doesn't want to come now that he obviously needs to. He doesn't even bother wondering why he suddenly needs to _at all_. Loki just came so many times before in Thors throat. But he never made himself come in front of him. Is it that? It's just not what they do, isn't it?

And so Thor knows it, feels it urge inside of him. All dizzy again he knows what he's supposed to now. Licking his lips he keeps staring for only a moment more, focused suddenly on the tip of Lokis flesh, the skin so light in this morning and but barely blushed in all its lust. For just a moment Thors eyes open wide and gaze at this tiny wet slit, at this white drop clinging to it, trembling from it, growing more and heavier. Falling, suddenly, like a tear, and being swallowed by the sheets to be a loss never to be regained.

Thor smacks. _Oh Nine, no. No._

And then he already hears Loki sob in relief as he finally closes his mouth around that sweet, warm, dripping thing. Thor, suddenly all eager to win back what they seem to have lost last night, feels tears wetting his closed lashes as he sucks the first drops of that welcome and so lovely familiar taste to run down his tongue like it did so many times before. He slugs loud. And he cannot keep from getting greedy. Sucking his brother deeper with his every gulp he swallows not only that throbbing bow but also the fingers closing around it, tastes them, licks them like a new land to be conquered. Thors body fills with beautiful heat surrounded by Lokis sensational sounds.

This is what they do, isn't it? Well, maybe. Maybe it's a bit more their bodies. Maybe it is a bit more passionate than innocent. But this, Thor knows, is finally what they do again.

He sighs a long and melancholic sigh into his brother and slings his loving arms around Lokis bare hips, shoving his spread out fingers over skin, slick and warm with Cowards Brew, embracing all he ever needed. And barely knowing what he does one of his hands finds its way back down Lokis cleft, his fingers, one, no, two, slowly sinking back in.

Loki tenses, throws his head up and lets out a howl, half hoarse, half not even having a voice, and seems to lose all of his muscles to a higher force. Breathing faster until way too fast he can't seem to decide whether to roll into Thors fingers or to thrust into his mouth. And so he ends up doing both, jerking between two flames of lust, trembling and barely keeping himself from slumping down into himself. He bucks into Thors fingers, out of them into his mouth. And back.

This time Thor doesn't mind. Once he didn't like it. But now, now he likes anything. _Let him. Let him lose it and force in deeper. I need him deep._ He gulps deliciously as Lokis shaft slides out. And following him Thor gives into these movements like giving into a dance, moving his head, his shoulders, his whole body, up and down, to never really let Loki out again, no matter who's giving the pace, no matter who's in control, who's to be king. There's no one in control now. None of them.

 _This is what we do. What we always should have done._ He doesn't even notice as he comes into his pants again.

One last wept moan and Loki, too, dashes away over the edge, arching his back. And Thor, deeply comforted, satisfied and caring for nothing but this, drinks all the warmth that's fed to him, drinks Loki like a calf drinks milk out of its mother.

 


	19. The talk

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> They need to talk. Oh, drama!

 

 

 

So Loki lays himself down on his sheets, looking deep into Thors eyes for an endless moment, back prickling, humming warm from the salve that took away his pains so graciously, and too exhausted to be wild but never too weary to enjoy he surrenders to what just seems to lie in both their natures.

„Thor“, he breathes closed eyed when he feels his brother crawl onto the bed.

„Yes?“

„My shoes … would you … ?“

And Thor takes off Lokis boots and strips his trousers down his shins, away over his white, bared feet. Then he climbs between his thighs, opens his own belt, slips both his trembling hands around himself and bends his neck down into Lokis lap. To do what he always does. Loki, cozily enjoying being freed from everything, just lets his sensitive feet wander up Thors spine, slowly shoving up his clothes til they find skin to caress. Thor rushes his hands back up, unbuttons his tunic and takes it off, throwing it carelessly aside, to give way to whatever Loki might want to touch, never stopping to place kisses on the fine bruises his chewing teeth left yesterday.

„Thank you“, Loki whispers sleepily. And chuckles when he realizes that his statement could be beautifully misunderstood. Thors tongue gives a smack in reply.

 _I should heal_ , Loki tells himself. But he's lazy. And there's no pain left to focus on anyways. Whenever he tries to force himself to listen into his body and find the echoes of his wounds all he finds is Thor in all his veins. So he listens to his brothers lips. And to the curtains softly fluttering in a mornings breeze. If he'd open his eyes to watch them curl and billow in the tender winds he'd see them brightly illuminated by the golden sun. But Loki is lazy. And so he listens to the birds, rolling his heavy head on his pillow and giving oh so tiny but impossibly overwhelmed sounds.

Loki cannot bring himself to feel guilty anymore, to feel strange. Last nights nightmares and worries seem too far gone. Slowly combing his brothers hair the last thing he feels before slumbering away is how Thors stubbles tickle his thighs. And...

When he wakes up he wears new clothes. Thor sits on the edge of his bed, dressed again, too, holding the open box of sweets in his hands, examining them critically. Loki frowns, suddenly unsettled by something he cannot put a finger on yet.

„You made me pass out?“, he jokes to hide his uncertainty as he sits up cross legged.

„Hu? You fell asleep.“ Thor doesn't smile. Thor doesn't look at him.

„How long have I been gone?“

„Not long.“

Glancing over to the window the sun tells just the same; half an hour maybe.

„How are you?“, Thor mumbles, coughing.

„Hm?“

„How you are!“

„Oh, better. Sorry.“ Frowning again Loki clears his throat, watching his brother brood over something that must be, measured by the depth of these angry lines above his nose, deathly serious.

And then he remembers with a stitch hurting his temples what Thor said to him before he ran for the pot of Cowards Brew this morning.

_We need to talk._

A panic claws into Lokis back. Suddenly feeling the urge to escape a prison cell his eyes rush from one point to the next all through his room, finding no safety in his familiar things and objects. Until his gaze stops at something catching all his suspicious attention in a most absurd way.

„Wait“, he says, staring wide eyed onto Thors knees, „you're wearing my trousers? My best, my favourite, my night-green trousers?“

This finally makes Thor look up. Glancing seesaw between Lokis poison eyes and the fabric stretching tightly over his muscular legs, so dark to be rather called black than green, he blushes.

„I kinda ruined mine.“

„You're wearing them out“, Loki snarls, „everywhere. I hear the stitchings creak.“

„I'm not! And, however, how is this green? It's black!“

„It's green.“

„It's black!“

„It's green!“

„IT'S - ! - LOKI“, Thor exhales in wild frustration, staring at his brother, „ ... we need to talk.“

Sighing Loki closes his eyes. He could make himself invisible and run. But he knows he shouldn't. Glancing down into the sheets he says: „Alright.“

It takes Thor some time to get something out.

„Brother, I'm worried.“

„It shows. I just wonder why.“ Loki nibbles at his lip. _No, I don't wonder why, I FEAR why._ Thor must finally have come to his senses. He must have realized what they REALLY do. And that it's more than a game. Brothers, men … and something else. A part of Loki remembers these thoughts that spun through his mind last night. That all of this could possibly be alone his fault. But now that's unduly, isn't it? Thor just proved again that he decides for himself in this affair. Loki did not manipulate him into anything.

Still, though, … the tiny doubt digs into him like a mean thorn.

And how does Thor think he's going to talk something like this over at all? Are there words for the unspeakable? In any language ever spoken? And what for? To clear it up? Or to end it?

 _This is is gonna be so ugly_. Loki gulps all numb.

Then, after torturing moments of hesitation, after rubbing his face in his great palms, after taking a breath to speak, letting it out unused again, and after taking another, Thor finally struggles his way to the possibly longest speech he ever held.

„I'm worried for _you_ , Loki. Your latest behavior is most alarming. I know I should have known, I should have seen it long ago! And you cannot imagine how I despise myself for not having been able to help you earlier. And … again, I, ah, just couldn't – resist, withstand, call it how you want. I couldn't be strong for you. But now I will, I will“, he pauses, gathering new courage. „Loki, what we did on that mountain was badly amiss.“

„You … don't say“, falls out Lokis mouth. He's frozen, staring back into his brothers pleading eyes. This is not what he expected. If he expected anything at all. This is not going to lead to anything good.

„See, you just got it all wrong!“

„What did I get wrong?“

„Nah, what we do … you know. Mmmh ...“, Thor frowns, looks down, „See, I am not that good at talking, but let me try, will you?“

Loki stays silent and the panic that ripped on his back crawls into him now. Something dawns upon him. Something this absurd he CAN'T believe it until he hears it from Thor. He listens tensed like a dead body.

„I will be honest, Loki. And I am doing this because I love you. I don't want anyone out there to hurt you because of it. And so I shall be the first and hopefully the last to ever tell you: I fear you are in great confusion about your sexuality.“

A second long Loki's sure he's gonna faint in disbelief. Thor didn't say that, did he? THOR didn't say that. Oh, All Nine, Odins fucking throne and Hel, he did. Thor, his brother, who came for him to suck his dick a thousand endless times, no matter if Loki wanted it or not, Thor, who took him as hard as to never fart the same way again, not to mention into WHICH orifice, THAT THOR said that he, Loki, is in great confusion about his sexuality.

Loki doesn't faint. And he doesn't rip Thors head off and eat it. And he doesn't screech like a Harpy to never ever stop again. And he doesn't giggle like mad and jump out of the window. He only wonders why he doesn't faint.

„So“, he hears himself say from afar, his voice but weak through that ping ringing into his ears.

„Don't be ashamed, Loki“, Thor takes his hands into both his own and squeezes them in caring compassion, „it's not your fault. I should never have supported these ill tendencies of yours. But I promise you we'll fix it! And we MUST fix it! See what lines it made you cross! All these wounds and bruises ...“

„Fix what?“

„Fix you!“

„Now … explain that to me, please.“ He pulls his hands slowly out of his brothers grip.

„Oh“, Thor moans, making a face, „Good. I … but I am not good at talking.“

„You're repeating yourself“, Loki snaps cruelly. Thor glances up, astounded by the sudden sharpness of his brothers voice.

„Well. Remember what made me turn to you when we started what we do?“

„The fear of becoming king. I seemingly was to distract you from it.“

„I was desperate and selfish“, Thor bawls, „Forgive me. I needed you then! And so I forgot to be the big brother you needed. And need still! I'm so sorry, Loki. You were helpless without my advice. I just didn't want to know what all this was to you.“

„What was it to me, then?“ Loki raises his eyebrows. Thor blushes.

„Sex, I'm afraid.“

Loki is deeply surprised at how he is able to stay this calm. He feels like ice is filling him up. Cold, hard, cutting shards of ice. Waiting to burst into the world and slit all life open and apart. Calmly waiting, though. He just doesn't know yet when this icy bomb inside of him is going to explode.

„It's no sex, then? I come, you come, we both come. Together. That's what people call sex. Am I really to explain this to a grown up man?“ At this he can't help but desperately chuckle. Jumping out the window suddenly doesn't seem too digressive anymore.

„It's just that - Loki, see it from my view: Brothers don't have sex! You must KNOW that! And we're brothers, aren't we? Aren't we brothers, Loki?“

Hesitating Loki nods his head. Thor smiles all triumphant as if he just made a retarded understand an utmost tricky thing: „See! So what we do can't possibly be sex!“

„Your logic kills me.“

„Loki, just-“

„Nonono, wait! I'm trying to follow your thoughts. Admittedly, when it was all new to us you were strangely, ah, modest, to say so. But we both know that didn't last long! And now you say ... what we do, how you call it - no, lets just call it what it is, analytically name it: You sucking me until I come whilst touching yourself until you come is no sex. But whatever we did on the mountain, that was sex, right? No, wait. You said what we do is no sex because we're brothers and because brothers don't have sex. So the mountain was no sex, either. We didn't stop being brothers then, did we?“

„Loki, please!“

„Please WHAT?“ His voice dart up into hysterical pitches. The shards of ice are dangerously clinging up his throat.

„There is a – ah,“ Thor stutters, helpless for an instant, grimacing like in pain, forcing himself to think, „a DIFFERENCE! In what I make us do and what you made us do on that mountain. I always meet you like a brother. But yesterday you tried to meet me like a lover!“

Loki jumps from the mattress to his feet and spits his next words down into Thor from above: „Name ONE man in ONE world who MEETS HIS BROTHER THE WAY YOU DO!“

Boom. The bomb is out. But not in an explosion of deathly racing shards of ice ripping everything into pieces. Only in tears melting from Lokis gaze.

Thor doesn't say a word. His face is such a sad mask as he watches his brother cry out of wide, staring eyes. His voice is soft and filled with deep compassion as he says: „The point is that you got it wrong, Loki. And that you are confused.“

„Confused“, Loki echoes silently.

„Yes“, and Thor smiles, thinking that Loki begins to understand, „But I have high hopes that together we can make you overcome these problems! We are born Aesir, Loki. Remember. We mustn't sleep with siblings. Or with men.“

_No. This is ridiculous._

Loki, face suddenly freezing again, straightens his back and starts to slowly pace around the room. Thor stands up, too, watching him hopefully.

„Let me … give a résumé“, Loki dangerously muses. „Aside from incest now … you say I'm gay. And, what's even more interesting, you say you're not.“

„Of course I'm not“, Thor laughs.

„Oh, really? I mean, for not being gay you're pretty fond of taking a penis into your mouth. And of gulping down what comes out of it. And when you took me through the back door yesterday you wouldn't stop the ride for hours. Must have been pretty nice for your indeed! That's nothing one could or would do with a woman. And nothing I would do with you.“

Thor stands baffled, stares and needs some moments to realize he should be getting angry. And then his face runs burning red and his hands claw into fists. A sudden thunder roars above the palace.

„I'm NOT gay!“, he booms, „YOU are! You're a man acting like a girl, Loki! It was YOU WHO THREW HIMSELF BENEATH ME!“

As he suddenly jerks under a hard slap of Lokis long and lashing fingers cutting his cheek Thor grins victoriously. „See? That's EXACTLY what Sif does every time we have a quarrel.“

„And YOU are acting like a madman! What was that in the library? In front of SIF? Have you completely lost your mind?“

„I was just teasing you! She'd never found out about it, I've had it all under my control. You really deserved that, by the way.“

„Oh-nonononono, I think you LIKED it! Doing me in front of her! That was thrilling, wasn't it, you perv?“

„PERV you say? You KISSED ME! Kissing a brother that way is sick, Loki!“

„I didn't even WANT to kiss YOU, Oaf“, he lies, just to let an other end of the truth slip out his mouth, „I just don't have anyone else to kiss!“ And he shoots Thor a hateful and humiliated glare asking _who in all Asgard would want to kiss me?_

Now Thor frowns. At how his brother sees himself. For he didn't ever think about things like these. Thor is used to being loved and adored by everyone. But Loki … ? Oh, that's one of his tricks again, isn't it? Thor shakes his head.

„Silly excuses! You could get any maiden out there if only-“

"Oh, really? Could I, Thor? COULD I? Are we talking about YOU or ME?“

Thor blinks his eyes, confused. „Ah ...“

Loki makes a face, deeply disgusted. He feels used, mocked, slapped and now rejected. _So you want to get rid of me, or what?_ Something's turning inside of him: He's got some ice shards left, some freezing hate to protect himself from this farce. There's one last card he hasn't played out yet. He could still turn things round. _Cut him open. Tip to toe._

„You didn't touch her.“

„What?“

„You didn't touch Sif when I refused to let you touch me.“

At this Thors breathing stops in horror long before he knows he's horrified. His face tells stories as he realizes what Loki just spat out. Suddenly the broad shouldered, gold haired, strong and happy prince of Asgard is nothing but a frightened child. A child frightened to death. He stares at Loki as if a demon stood before him.

„Not THAT, Loki“, he threatens, but he's desperate, „that's something else!“

Narrowing his eyes Loki slowly shakes his head and creeps closer, makes Thor stagger back from him with nervous steps. He just can't keep from being cruel now. As if his life depended on finally throwing all guilt over onto Thors shoulders. As if this was the end of the world and one of them had to die now. Or both of them. For once this was through there would be no _they_ anymore, would there? _They_ would be gone. And the end of two together always means one leaves and one stays left behind. Loki doesn't know if he'd survive being the one who's left behind. Fate might want this for him. But fate can go fuck itself. Loki just needs to turn things around one last time. So nothing can stop him now from fighting for dear life. His best weapon has always been the cold.

„You couldn't touch her unless you touched me.“ _You craved for me. Tell me that you ended up needing me more than her. Tell me what we did was all your fault and not mine._

„What? No-“, Thor bumps against a wall, watching his brother stand and stare and judge him. Test him.

„Just admit it, Thor.“ _And if all times must end, tell me you wanted me._

„NO!“, the Thunderer booms, helpless tears spilling like angry rain from his eyes, „that's something ELSE, Sif is SOMETHING ELSE! It's not that way! You don't understand! SIF WON'T BE SIF ANYMORE, SIF IS LIKE A PART OF THE THRONE!“

Ashamed Thor stares to the ground and wipes his tears away, bites into his knuckles with a whine. And Loki, as if an unexpected blow just hit him without mercy, suddenly senses something crack inside of him to be forever broken ... as he understands. A moment he fears to white out, his lungs explode in hurt although he doesn't even breathe. He doesn't breathe. He simply understands that he's been really nothing more than a distraction all along. That all Thors attention has always secretly just circled round his future, round his throne and his queen, all these things destined to him ever since, and around the question if he'd be strong and wise and good enough to prove himself worth them. _Them_. And not Loki. Not the distraction from the really important things. Not the game only played to prepare for life. Of course not. Of course.

_Why does it even hurt? It's just too simple._

His voice is tender as silk, cutting like razors as Loki finds the strength to speak: „Ah … I see. Now I see it all“, and this is when his silver tongue, without his conscious will, just starts to perform its masterful duty, „THIS is the point, brother, YOU are confused. Not I. Confused and afraid. And you should be, you absolutely should! For what if you fail mounting the throne? You don't want to be responsible for worlds, don't you? There'll be so many things cutting off your freedom! So many chances to become a disappointment to the ones believing in you. And, Nine, what if you fail mounting HER? You're right, Thor. Sif won't be Sif anymore once you're king. She'll be QUEEN. And could you _really_ please a queen? What do you think? Could you?“

Thor flinches so pitifully at these words. Loki closes his eyes, takes a deep, slow breath.

„You turned to me. For bare comfort first, and then to nurse your confidence. You couldn't fail at me, could you? Yes. That's what you thought“, he pauses, feeling dizzy in his own words sound. But he cannot stop them. He cannot stop the shards of ice slitting everything apart. Oh, there are tears running down his cheeks in finest lines. It's just that he doesn't feel them. They're too cold. And Loki's cold.

„But now look at you, Thor. And look at me; you failed“, a pause steals into this unreal madness, and it's filled by nothing but the huffs of breathings absence. Thor doesn't dare say anything. He doesn't have the strength to keep his brother from ending it.

„I will be honest“, Loki says, perfectly aware of the fact that he uses Thors own words against him, „And I'm doing this because I love you, brother: You'll never be able to rule. You'll always be too childish, feckless, sissy to be worth the throne. You'll lead your lands to ruins like you ruined me. Everyone will turn their backs on you … and I will be the first.“

 _Yes. It's better this way._ It's wrong, but it's better this way.

Loki should have helped his brother now that he finally really faces his fears, should have encouraged and ensured him that he'll just be growing into his responsibilities and doing fine. That the throne, like Sif, has always been a part of his life and thus nothing to be scared of. He should have smiled and told him that Sif, queen or not, will always be just Sif. And that he, king or not, could always be just Thor. But Loki doesn't want to be the one who's left behind. Replaced by a throne and a queen and a kingdom. No, he can't be thrown away and blamed for all their little sins like this. Thor mustn't have a bright and glorious future to look ahead to released and purified. Not in their final moment of departure. Not now. Loki wouldn't survive it.

_It's better this way._

When he disappears like smoke in the wind Thor lets out a heartbroken sob. Stumbling towards where his brothers figure has been standing only moments ago his shaking hands reach out to get hold of what is already gone. Choking on tears he sinks to his knees.

„Brother“, Thor whines. But cruel, cruel Loki offers no reply.

 


	20. An eavesdropper's woe

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Monster chapter. Monster, monster, monster chapter. And still I didn't get all scenes in that I intented to. Possible 22nd chap is not impossibe here – let's see!

 

 

 

Prince Loki is gone.

The palace is in highest commotion. The last one to see him was Sif. That was yesterday, in the library. Where she witnessed him having a painful aftershock of his dubious magic tricks. Once she ran to get him help he vanished, leaving nothing but an utmost chaos; hundreds of books on the ground, and the window, the grand one in its artistic iron curls, completely broken. As if a storm raged through the book hall and grasped the prince away. An angry storm of uncontrollable magic, perhaps, taking its revenge in the one who irresponsibly and hungry for power called upon it. Loki has always been known for playing far too easygoingly with the dark flames of magic. And now he's gone. Oh, what a tragedy on the verge of his brothers coronation!

„Do you know where he is?“, the all seeing Heimdall has been asked by a breathless Thor; this his closest friends claim to have seen.

„No“, shalt the answer have been, a heavy weighing, shortest decline of any hope. Nothing else was asked or said then, so Thors closest friends told the warriors, nothing but an intense glare was exchanged between heir and guardian. And so Thor stormed to meet Odinfather, the Warriors Three and his Lady Sif always at his heels.

Prince Thor wore that mask of deepest dismay on his grave face when he rode onto the Bifrost to lead the search company to realms and places prince Loki is known for favoring to visit: the Darkelfs floating book markets. The underground hills beneath the Dwarvens mines. The Changeling Forests growing at the edges of worlds, the places in between. All Asgard had already been turned upside down at this point. The chambers, every single one of them, the hallways and halls, that labyrinth of a library of course, and drill grounds, gardens, plazas, hot springs, kitchens, stables, all rooms locked, even the roofs and the dungeons. But no trace of the second born royal son had anywhere home been to be found.

The (soon to be) Queen Mother Frigga herself has been spotted out on her highest balcony, hiding her lips with a trembling hand, eyes wide in worry, searching all the kingdom for as far as she could gaze. Some even claim to have seen tears on her. And Odinfather didn't speak up to the masses about the matter yet. No good sign. No, no.

_They can't know I'm not gone. But I wonder why they didn't set their sorcerers on my tracks yet._

Loki didn't go anywhere. Set no foot out of Asgard after he vanished in front of Thor this morning. Nothing in the world would have made him face Heimdalls judging eyes in this so sensitive state of mind he was in right after the fight with his brother. And anyhow, something like embittered curiosity held him back. To stay and watch. And listen. And see the worlds reaction to his sudden disappearance.

It doesn't satisfy him. It doesn't surprise him, either. All this expenditure … is not meant for him anyways. Only for formalities. And for Thor, of course: No one in Asgard wants to see Thors coronation ruined by his selfish little brother probably cutting his dramatic last caper.

Loki could have ended this boring hassle with a snap of his fingers before Thor rode out to hunt all realms down for nothing. If only he'd just shown up and laughed and shrugged his shoulders at it all as if it was nothing but a silly misunderstanding.

 _Actually I felt better the instant you left me, Sif. Told you it was nothing. And I didn't want to meet a healer if not absolutely necessary. You know, they tend to finger you in your most private places._ With a glare at Thor, of course, who would probably have choked on his own spittle at this.

But something held him back. And holds him back still. Something in the panic shining from everyones eyes, meant for him or not, the confusion fed by that trembling uncertainty he alone possesses the power to clarify … soothes his innermost and calms him.

Only when he followed Thor to secretly meet father … and when he saw his mother cry, only then he felt a sudden knot inside tearing his chest apart.

_What am I doing here? What have I done?_

For a heartfelt moment of love Loki wanted to directly show her that he was alright and nowhere gone. But he couldn't. Loki didn't _feel_ alright. And he hadn't ever felt that far away. That _gone_. So he turned from her, numbly hurting, unnoticed and invisible (as he has always been before, so what's the matter anyways?), to steal away, stalking through the palace, not knowing where to and why.

He watched as the search company galloped across the Bifrost, he stood by the very side to have a best view up to his brother on his horse, face pale like war-torn. But Thor passed by too fast. And the riders following him were of not interest to Loki. So he watched their horses hooves beat angry sparks from the surface of the rainbow bridge. And headed back to the palace.

He strolls through the hallways now, listening here and there to what the people have to say about him; nothing all too kind, of course. But nothing unexpected, either. Nothing to break his heart, although there definitely ARE cruel things whispered among Asgard. Lokis heart just appears to still be numb from fighting with Thor. The peoples evil tongues are just like distant voices dribbling distant words in a dream.

„That's so typical to him“, says one maiden he never ever even met to one he never ever even saw as they snootily walk through one of the gardens, „disappearing like that! I always knew there was something strange about him. That's just all too selfish of him! Even as the younger prince he's got his duties towards the public.“

„Good we have Thor as heir and not him. What would Asgard do if he was the elder prince? No one could trust a king like that!“

„And his nasty magic tricks! As clearly came out now they've always been dangerous! He could have destroyed the whole palace by accident!“

„Oh, if only he would never return … then life would finally be safe!“

„Shhhh, don't you tell anyone: But I have heard some people talk about how they think that there's no hope of finding him alive, anyways.“

„Yes, that could be true. Considering the facts. Let's just hope so … “

Loki narrows his eyes and lets two ripe red apples fall from a tree and hit the beasts on their pretty heads to make them squeal and stop their stupid talks.

_They want me dead._

But somehow ... it doesn't matter. Does it? And so his soundless feet dream him away, walking the paths of home as if he never knew them.

Up on the defense walls there linger two bored guards having a break. Dump faced they chew on bread and cheese and owe their shining armors an amount of dignity they'd possibly never be able to afford. Loki absently wants to walk by as he hears them talk about him, too. Silent footed he stops.

„But … now he's dead, well, it's a shame. I just mean-“

„What?“, chews the other, cheeks full with cheese.

„What do you mean, what?“

„What is a shame I mean!“

„Prince Loki! Can't you just once listen when I talk to you?“

„Srry...“

„So, that's a shame. That he's dead.“

Loki frowns at these creatures of dullness; the day's not even half over and yet he shall be rotting in the grounds? The beasts in the garden at least had the decency to just _wish_ him dead.

„'Cause no matter he WAS crazy … but he was pretty, wasn't he? Like a girl.“

„Ohohohow! I see what you're hinting at!“

„And have you ever seen his mouth? Thin lipped, but astoundingly wide when he laughed. Deep I mean. Good to swallow anything.“

„Whaaaat?“

„Trust me, he was the type for that. Always strange, so why not strange in that direction? No one ever saw him with a girl anyways.“

„Ohow, so you would have plugged his face if given the chance?“

„Dunno, why not?“

„But remember his many teeth! One moment he looked at you line mouthed, then suddenly there were these horrible rows of monster choppers! I bet he would have bitten your sausage off before you even felt his tongue!“

„Naaaah. He wasn't the heir. Second borns are always made to kneel. He's had takin' it in him, you could see that in his sneaky moves. Someone should just have fed him full from time to time. He'd probably never died, then, trying to please himself with magics instead of good ol' flesh!“

As they burst into an ugly laughter Loki cramps his fingers, making the food blow up in their throats til they end up coughing and spitting and choking, faces almost blue from panting for air.

 _If only you knew._ Thighs prickling in remembrance of this very morning and his brothers face between his legs he cranes and turns away.

He heads to the kitchens, then, slowly, ever so careful not to bump into anyone. Even invisible men must eat. He hasn't eaten anything since yesterday noon in the library. Besides from that one candy Thor shoved into his mouth to quiet him like a brainless pet. And he feels weak from using his magic nonstop. But he doesn't even think of stopping. No, he wouldn't show up that soon. Let them curse and joke and insult him, let then blabber their voices sore … until they regret it. _Until he regrets it._

So down in the kitchens he lazily leans against a table, watching a sweating cook frantically trying to safe a purple soup that seemingly appears to be supposed to be any colour but purple. Following the cooks desperate tries with wide boyish eyes Loki steals one cookie after another into his invisibility from a plate no one pays any attention to anyways; besides herbal bread and crusty meat they were meant for the royal breakfast, but that didn't take place when Thor laid the whole palace waste just to rush leaving Asgard in attempt to find his brother. All foods stayed in the kitchen, then. None wanted to eat. It's almost time for supper now, however, and just in case anyone wants to eat _now_ the cook needs to be prepared. Even with a purple soup.

„NINE!!!“

Loki jerks at the sudden outcry of the young and dirty dish washer next to him.

„WHAT IS IT?“, the cook snaps without looking up.

„Don't you HEAR that? Someone's MUNCHING! We've got a GHOST in here!“

„Rats, you doofus!“

„Rats nibble, they don't crunch!“

 _Ooops._ Loki gulps, secretly and involuntarily smirking. He didn't intent to have some of his legendary mischievous fun. Not in his exalted celebration of bitterly licking his wounds life and its countless injustices gashed him. But now that it already happened …

„WHAAAAAAT!!!!“

„So WHAT now, boy?“

„That cookie just levitated from the plate!“

„Are you mad?“

„NO, it's the GHOST, I tell you!“

The cook just groans and hits the boy with a wooden spoon: „Ye, ye, just beware, you poor minded! That'll be prince Loki! Jealous of his brother soon inheriting the throne he killed himself for the attention like a wench. And I am left here stressed with the royal families moods and needs brought into a total mess! That'll go at least for weeks, I KNOW it! 'Lo, we are too sad to eat now. Keep the oxen warm and fresh all night and day until our bellies have mercy with you!' They should just hurry mourn the idiot and get over it! It's not like the first born's gone!“

Throwing a cold piece of meat at the back of the cooks head Loki turns away disgusted and leaves a shouting man and a fainting boy behind. When he mounts the stairs his knees tremble.

Horns and hooves tell of Thors return; his face is even paler now. The sky is bleeding into night. And Lokis heart pounds like a drum.

_Has he found him? No._

_Has anyone heard of him? No._

_Will the search go on tomorrow? Yes._

In the great hall torches burn and the throne stands deserted; Odinfather doesn't find the strength to calmly sit on it and air his ancient dignity. Instead he paces slowly here and there, his dear wife at his arm all tensed with the horror of waiting.

Loki is thievishly at his brothers heels again as he and all his searching companions enter the hall. The warriors in their golden armors discreetly scatter all through the hall to lean against columns and sit down on stairs to rest. While Thor vigorously nears his parents to go down on one knee just in front of them, bowing his head.

„ … but what if he found out about-“, slips out Friggas weary mouth just before she can realize it's her son there in front of her. Odin touches her cheek to silence her. _Found out about what?_ Loki frowns with a stitch through his heart at her anxious sight. But she doesn't speak on. And he doesn't dare look at her any longer.

„I'll find him“, Thor swears. „I haven't looked everywhere yet. He can't be just gone. I'll find him.“ But before his mother can reach out and pull him into a desperate embrace Asgards future king stands up and walks away with an all too straight back.

And there Lokis heart flutters in a mixture of dismay and satisfaction. Creeping after Thor this invisible he stares at his brothers strong back; now that he knows he cannot _see_ him … Loki has never felt any closer to Thor. And his hidden eyes read his back like a book, read his stiff movements like a confession.

_Are you feeling guilty, brother dear?_

When Thor sits at a broad table loaded with plates of untouched fruit and meat he sighs unhappy and drives his bulky, shaking hand through his golden hair. Again and again. Sif sits on the table, Fandral to Thors left, Volstagg fell asleep, face in a plate, and Hogun stands some paces off beside a column, looking calmly out into the night.

„He'll show up again“, Sif sighs. „I tell you, he's hoaxing us. He's hiding somewhere safe and sound, giggling the soul out of his body. I was petrified when I found him gone, but it can't be true what people say. He's hoaxing us again, thinking all this shit funny. I'm SO gonna welt him once - “

Fandral makes a face as Thor bristles in sudden anger: „You don't KNOW him, so just SHUT up!“

„I am afraid YOU don't know him“, she insists. „Don't you think it's kind of _demonstrative_ of him to disappear just when all Asgard seriously starts over the coronations prearrangements?“

„Shut it up, Sif, I warn you!“

„You _dare_ tell me what to do? I'm just trying to HELP against all these horror stories of your childish brother being lost or dead!“

"Well then you FAILED“, Thor shouts, making Loki gulp with using particularly _these_ words against Sif.

All indignant she stares at her fiancee open mouthed. He doesn't waste a glance on her, stubbornly biting his nails instead.

„Fine“, she snaps, jumping off the table and storming away with proud and angry steps. Not until she's out of earshot Fandral lets out a whimpered: „Ouch. Now what was _that_?“

Thor only groans. And Loki cocks his eyebrows, not sure what to think about what he just witnessed. And even lesser sure of why he doesn't end this. _I should_ … But he can't. Not yet.

However, standing behind Thors chair he secretly watches Sif cross the hall and makes a long neck as she nears a broad shouldered, ginger haired guard: Doing so she shoots a glare over her shoulder back at Thor who doesn't even notice as much. Loki frowns when she touches the mans shoulder to make him disappear with her into a side passage.

_What is she … ?_

Fandral seems to think just the same. Wide eyed he gasps and exclaims: „Nine! What it she DOING with that – Thor, just - !“

„NO MORE, Fandral, I need some rest“, Thor presses out, eyes shut.

„But - “

„NO!“

Loki already sneaked after her, then, a grimace of disbelief on him as he looks for where she might have slipped. She's not _doing_ that, is she? Loki even sympathized with that arrogant moo once he realized how Thor cheated her with him. And he felt honestly guilty and sorry. But she's not really disappearing for a revenge quickie with that ginger guard, is she? Thor did neglect her late off, yes, and he _did_ just snub her, but ...

One hallway down, though, Loki abruptly stops … as shameless moans touch his ears. And the squeaking of a poorly martyred bed frame. And rhythmically recurring grunts.

 _Oh Nine._ Grossed out he backs away again. But he can't help but secretly feel kind of ... gleeful? He's not gonna tell Thor, though. Officially he's not even here. Let the oaf find that out on his own.

As he's back at his brothers side – and Fandrals, for Volstaggs sleeping mass is no person to be counted and Hogun's still not closer to the table – the invisible Trickster suddenly notices he's smiling from ear to ear; he feels his cheeks blush hot immediately. He can't keep from seating himself on the table, though, exactly where Sif sat her butt flat only moments ago. Not that he's _somehow_ trying to take over her place. Oh, that grin just won't be shaken off! Good no one sees him anyways. Gloating's always had this telltale effect on his face. Oh, well.

„Fandral, my friend“, Thor whispers low voiced and frowning deep.

„Yo?“

„I … have a question.“

The bearded warrior doesn't look up as he toys around with a grape, trying to balance it to stand on the table: „Ask me anything.“

„How do men have sex?“

Loki tenses. Thor gulps. And Fandral stares.

„You don't … know?“

„With men I mean.“

„Oh … ahem. Why – is it about … ?“ _Loki?_ For what else could be on Thors mind now but his lost brother? Thor ignores this unspoken question, however. And he doesn't notice that invisible poison glare glued on his face. He takes a deep breath.

„Doesn't it hurt? If they … you know ...“

„Phew ... oh, man. Not that I am supposed to know. But one hears things. They, kind of, prepare, if you really want to know. Just like, eh, you want to enter a locked house. So you need to open the door first. Oil the hinges. They don't break into each others like burglars. It doesn't hurt that way, I guess. Not that I'm supposed to know.“

„And … that's sex, isn't it? But if they don't … use the door … ?“

Fandral gasps for air. But he doesn't seem to dare say out loud what conclusions he draws out of this shit of cut off sentences. Suddenly Loki realizes that he doesn't breathe.

„There are“, Fandral bravely continues, „as with women, many places of pleasure, my friend. You don't always need to be _inside_. To have sex, I mean.“

And Thor portentously buries his face in his hands and groans, leaving Loki nothing to stare at but a wide eyed Fandral uncomfortably twitching his brows, baring his teeth in burning but desperately controlled curiosity.

None of them speaks any more of the matter again this evening. Thor refuses to and Fandral doesn't dare. Lokis ears ring on and on and on, imagining how the palace would echo the next morning with a new, completely naughty rumor: Prince Loki did the runaway with a man. His brother Thor saw him whoring with one some time before he disappeared. Everyone talking about it would of course underline they didn't hear this from Fandral.

But it doesn't matter anymore, does it? There's no one in all Asgard wasting but a single fond thought on him anyways. Why not let them think the mysterious 'Blondie' is a man? It's not even a lie.

And weary, just so very weary, it later appears that Loki doesn't care for anything but following his brother as he stands up to finally trudge to his chambers for some sleep. It's just that a surprise waits there to slap the brothers completely unexpectedly: It's Sif. In a beautifully woven night gown she lies like flowers thrown upon Thors bed, no, _their_ bed, Loki remembers, her face a mask of overboarding sympathy pleading for reconciliation. _That two faced cunt._

„Thor“, she purrs, standing up and closing in on him like water, directly starting to free him from his heavy gear in the dim torchlight. „Thor. I never wanted to fight … “

„Yes“, he sighs, resting his forehead against hers, „I know.“

Loki creeps silently into a corner all fretful and narrow eyed, watching this false intimacy completely grossed out. Her skin still warm from the Gingers touch she throws herself at Thor? And he doesn't even SMELL it?

„You know“, she starts again, caressing his chest through his tunic, „I think I probably know … where you should look for Loki tomorrow.“

Thors eyes spring open, suddenly wide awake.

„Some weeks ago I asked him to accompany me into one of Vanaheims greatest woods. I wanted him to track a magical stag for me then. He was pretty fond of that place. Downright hooked“, and she wrinkles her nose before she continues, „ … it's just an idea. Maybe he's sulking there.“

Thor makes a face, slightly turning away from her. „He's not sulking.“

And she sighs. „Whatever you say … “, then her hands are on his face. And her lips on his.

Loki turns away. Shuts his eyes as tight as to see little white sparks behind his lids. But he can't turn away from hearing how they breathe and kiss, undress and sigh. And fall into their bed.

„I missed you“, she whispers. And Thor lets out a muffled groan.

_Just hours ago you claimed to be afraid of touching her. Your fear seems promptly gone now that I quit being your whore._

Loki should show up just now. And he should spit all filthy truths at both their heads. Truths telling of incestuous blowjobs and ginger quickies. But he wouldn't be able to prove any of them. He'd be the liar again. The selfish, the jealous, the childish, the evil, the ruthless, the perverted second born prince never to be king, made to kneel, lusting for any ridiculous piece of attention who simply needs to be fed up to his throats brim with good ol' flesh from time to time. The helpless liar desperately trying to throw up with truth. His hands cramp into painful fists at all this bitter forlornness.

His brothers rhythmical moans grasp him out of a paralysis threatening to choke him dead, though. He rips his face around again, wide eyed to stare at two bared bodies moving as one, muscles tensing, working, shining with sweat and lust, arms slinging, legs intertwining, lips at throats and hands on skin. Tongues on skin.

Helpless hate forcing tears from his eyes Loki stares with a heart aching wildly from cracks of unacknowledged nature. Hypnotized he stand and stares. Until he can't but slowly creep closer.

Circling the moaning bodies on the sheets he gulps and eyes them like hopelessly consumed, examines every hurting inch of lust presented to him. And he ends up at their heads. And Thors next blow makes the Thunderer arch his spine. And give view to _even more_. Fire tearing Loki apart he gazes down to where they meet, down both their bellies, deeper down, where Thor slides in and out of the slick blossom of Sifs swollen lap.

She takes it all. As far and hard as it will go. And doesn't even flinch. Focusing on this flesh in flesh sliding and swallowing Lokis breath stops and his eyes won't blink no more. For an instant his body echoes with the overwhelming memory of fingers ... sweetly intruding him. _Thors fingers._ After that monstrous spear that forced him open. That spear he couldn't take. Loki gulps down a sob. Dry eyed he straight out glares into Sifs flushed face and realizes he could easily slap her. Or break some teeth out with his fist. Push it violently deeper down her filthy throat. Choking her ugly cries off. He's not the strongest, never has been. But an unexpected blow … in a moment like this?

 _I am not jealous._ But his wounded heart cries out behind his ribs. _Oh Nine, I am._

Another grunt unloading from Thors open mouth pulls Loki to his brothers shoulder, then, stumbling away from Sif on quiet feet, turning his back on her as if she'd disappear once he didn't see her anymore. But she doesn't disappear. Not her yells. And especially not the blueprint image of her shameless fold pumping Thors trunk on Lokis eyes, _in_ Lokis eyes, no matter where they glance, open or shut. If only they were full with something big enough to oust that twisted sight!

 _Thor._ Thor is big. His back is broad and strong and big enough to push anything unpleasant out of the way. Hectically Lokis eyes shoot up to his brothers spine. Damp hair lies like liquid gold in that neck. Sweat runs down this moving landscape of strength, illustrated by the torches light. Lost in his brothers muscles fervently working their steady, unstoppable pace, lost in his brothers groans, Loki lets his eyes wander and charge and heat his body up with all Thor they can gaze at. Until he tingles. Until he twitches with Thors every painfully sweet, no, sweetly painful thrust.

Until there's suddenly a feminine Hand clawing into that picture, reminding him that all this strength is meant for someone else. Like nothing's ever meant for him. Startled his gaze flees from Sifs fingernails marking Thors skin. And end up in the labyrinth of his brothers ear.

And suddenly Loki licks his lips as a vicious idea crosses his mind ... and directly obsesses him.

Sifs cries are loud enough to drown out anything but herself to her perception. And Loki knows their rhythm by now, long caught in it himself. His heart beats heavy to Thors blows. And Sif cries out to them, Thors blows and Lokis heartbeats. Every time.

Loki won't be forgotten. Replaced and left behind. _Never._

Bending forward, shivering in a shock of malicious lust, Loki parts his lips against Thors ear, almost touching it. And then he breathes a voiceless heat into his brother. Thor gasps as his hips stumble out of their iron pace to dig deep into Sifs lap; she cries out loud. And Loki lets a most delicious, tiny sigh melt into his brothers ear. One Thor knows oh too well. One to disturb him to the bone.

Never stopping to rock his hips Thor pants for air and rips his startled head around to stare directly into Lokis eyes. And not into them. Because they are invisible. And Loki secretly grins just inches away from him, wondering if his brother's got it in him to smell his presence (and his skin).

He doesn't. Or he doesn't dare to. Turning to Sif again he rolls his hips back into their pace. But Loki's at him like a wolf at a bleeding lamb. Creeping after Thors ear Loki doesn't have to wait too long for Sif. A thrust, a yell, and Loki moans into Thor, listening with dizzy pleasure how his groan responds to him in a voice colored a shade of pleasure that it hasn't been with Sif alone. Thor shakes his head, trying to focus.

_But on what, brother? On whom?_

Every moan tickling Thors ear makes him lose it more. His muscles get frantic, fevered, pushed. And every thrust he digs into his queen, every cry he forces out her throat, Loki secretly sighs for him and him alone. Molten into this haunting Thors neck even leans into Lokis voice. A thrust and Loki sighs for him. And whines and purrs and pants. A thrust and Loki breathes his name like lost in sleepy lust.

„Thor“, he sighs. And Thor groans.

„Please“, he whimpers. And Thor yells out loud.

„Brother“, he moans. And Thor comes with a howl.

Once they're done Loki watches him collapse into his bride and her embrace with trembling muscles, jerking wildly under his wet, damping skin. She sighs as he claws into her flank for support, and caresses the twitching mass (that Loki left) of him.

Suddenly utmost sick Loki feels himself throb and pulse in a craving disgusting him. And he imagines how Thor did him just like Sif. Just like he does a woman. He imagines how he must have looked like. Beneath his mighty brother. How he squirmed. And jerked. And yelped. Like a beaten slut.

And Loki storms out of the room like a sudden wind banging the door open, storms down the hallway til he reaches an open balcony, throws himself against the balustrade, only just keeping his body from falling over, losing his invisibility, and vomits down into a bank of roses. The night blows chills across his waxen face.

 


	21. The horrors of regret

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> FINALLY!!! Chapter 21 of GODHELPIDONOTKNOW how many! This is not the end, no way!
> 
> Sorry for the wait again, dearlings. My thinking just grew so very Loki-centered that I always end up in a crisis once I try to switch to Thors view. But leaving him out would be so asshole of me. Leaving you wait til eternity is asshole of me, too, though. So let's just say I'm pretty asshole ;3
> 
> „In which Thor suffers the hell out his poor soul“ (or: „I know you want this“)

 

 

 

That night Thors dreams are nightmares.

Throwing his body from one side to the other, struggling between his sheets like beaten by fevers pains, the golden princes' sleep is haunted by nothing but Loki.

He sees a scheme of him slowly walking away into white mist, but no matter how hard he runs, Thor cannot reach him. And he cannot call, his lungs just bursting from his run, his voice too sore to spit out any sound. And every time he nears just close enough to touch anything of his brother, an elbow, the edge of his green cloak, a hand, and every once he wants to grab it ... Loki disappears like smoke in the wind. Just to be there in the distance again, even farther away, wasting not half a glimpse back. And every time Thor fails again his heart wants to explode.

„Are you playing Hide And Seek?“ Fandral sits cheerfully on a lonely tree trunk some paces off. Startled Thor turns around to face his bawdy friend. The bearded warrior leers, slowly licking his lips. Somehow Thors knees tremble and panic makes him pant. He can't recall what he's afraid of, though.

„ ... what?“, he groans between his useless breaths.

„Silvertongue seems to be having lots of sex lately.“ And Fandral slides his thumb deep into his mouth just to slowly pull it out his sucking lips again, playfully bucking his hips, ostentatiously watching Thor with an evil sparkle in his eyes and a mocking groan rolling through the back of his throat ending in a most amused giggle.

Thor sobs in fierce disgust and stumbles backwards. Ripping his gaze off of his friend perverting _what they do_ right in front of his eyes he rushes to focus on catching Loki again. But Loki's gone. Thor feels like all blood runs out of him, leaving him cold, his hands and feet stinging with frost; Loki turned his back on him. There's only wasteland all around. Grey wasteland under mists of white.

And there's the throne. Like a golden thorn it pierces from the landscape. And it grows. Higher into the sky. Dangerously bending forward, threatening with its sharp shimmer. It grows and grows with a metallic and reproaching howl, pressing Thor small under its mighty and unbearably dark shadow. The golden prince of Asgard cries out and hides his face in his hands, breaking to his knees, as that oldest fear, even older than the fear of losing Loki, owns him again.

„I know where he is“, Sif says. She sits on the throne, _in_ the throne, her legs are the thrones legs and her eyes, blind, are made of gold. Like all of her is gold, her shoulders and her breasts and her waist. She's like the throne.

Shoving his thumb into his mouth Thor trembles and hesitantly crawls from left to right to left again at her feet. Barely daring to look up, nothing is left of him but naked fear. There's no thunder in him, no call of Mjolnir, his powers drained like something utterly weak. But he can't turn away now, he forces his gaze up to his titan queen (that could crush him with a toe): Because she knows where Loki is. And for this Thor owes her all his gratitude. He cannot face her like a man, though. Only like a whimpering wreck.

When she dissolves into Vanaheims woods her arms are branches and the throne nothing but sunlight between the ancient bodies of trees. Her hair stays, is everywhere between the boughs, and when she's gone there's Loki. With a leap of his heart Thor glimpses an emerald eye of him blinking through a web of raven hair. But too soon it's lost again, and Thor is left to dig thick strands of hair aside, away, without finding anything beneath. No sign of a white cheek, not so much as a mischievous smirk. And is it Lokis hair he's touching … or is it Sifs? He hears a chuckle at his ear and doesn't recognize the voice.

Hectically he turns to find its owner, but no matter how he spins, a breathing whispers warm into his ears, making him smell it, _taste_ it. There's no face to it, no mouth, no lips, no matter where Thor turns and turns and turns. And the breathing grows into sighing, into purring, into moaning. Fire licks at Thor, invisible fire from all sides, fire makes him moan with the voice, his chest heaving in bewilderment. Only when he's finally granted a murmur assuring him that it's Loki, assuring him _that he's here_ , so close, here and not gone, not lost, when Thor eventually hears a whispered _brother_ melt into his ears he wants to weep in relief. But then the voice dies out and leaves no echo to be followed. And Thor's alone again.

Suddenly, though, he stands to find the foot of a purple gray mountain ahead, _their_ mountain, and there he sees Lokis white and naked body crashed on the sharp edged rocks like a broken doll, face staring (but not seeing), arms broken, legs broken. There are these bruises everywhere, the blood! And as Thor cries out in horror, tears stinging his terrified eyes, Loki abruptly glares at him like he did when he stood high up by the mountains cliff - just before they …

„I should have jumped“, Loki says. And then a hiss makes him twist his face and throw his head back. In a fierce movement Loki spreads his legs for someones shoulders, someone blurred to the Thunderers eyes; Thor jerks as he sees a golden thatch working an obscene rhythm in Lokis lap. And a heartbeat long the claws of jealousy and guilt bite through his chest, mingled so viciously together as to leave Thor helplessly guessing which of them hurts more. Is it seeing someone in the place where he should be? Or seeing someone showing him what he really, _really_ did with Loki all these times? A heartbeat long he glimpses the crystal image of swollen lips sucking across Lokis wet length, lust throbbing in its every procuring vein. And he hears Loki lose a clearest cry of pleasure. One after another.

 _That's what people call sex._ Fandral cackles somewhere to his left and claps his hands.

But suddenly it's pain making Loki cry. And Thor finds himself close, closer, finds himself touching skin. Ribs beneath skin. And his brothers sounds penetrating his ears with pain, no, fire, no, pain, make Thor dizzy and drunken. All too confused he looks down into Lokis face; it's frozen with a mouth tightly shut like dead. _Brother_ , Thor hears him plea, but Loki doesn't say a word. _Brother, please._

He hears the throne grow in the distance again; its metallic howls make him shiver to the bone. And Loki, not giving a sound, just won't stop _moaning_ in his ears. Hysteria eventually conquering Thors senses he cannot keep his hands from closing round Lokis neck, pressing down hard as if to choke every sound, every dangerous howl in the distance. „Stop howling“, Thor spits out in tears.

His hands lie round Sifs neck now. And he's not above, he's beneath her. She's hard as iron under his fingers, though her normal size again. And, suspicious eyed, she's angry. He doesn't stand a chance choking her (and the throne). So he lets go and hurries to crawl away, hide away behind some bushes heavy with rotten fruit. Then like a thunderbolt a realization shoots into him: he forgot to find Loki.

The instant he wants to jump to his feet, however, Loki already found _him_. In his lap he lies, Thors little brother, Thors baby brother, sleepy and cozy, resting his head upon Thors naked legs. One slender hand slung round Thors length. His lips softly suckling the tip. Thor groans at the unreal but sudden sensation; a tongue on him and lazy, nibbling teeth … but Loki isn't sucking him like a child sucks a thumb. This is a kiss. Tender and full of a lovers affection (and it's not what they do). But hypnotized Thor cannot move and do anything but watch how beautifully Lokis mouth stretches around him, how smoothly it takes him, slowly, hesitant, but deeper, inch by inch, slowly and gently adjusting to his size ... pining Thor closes his eyes and lets his neck loll back, head falling. The sounds of Lokis suckling are too pretty and too good.

„Have you tried to oil the hinges?“, someone calls in the distance.

„How, why should I?“, comes a hoarse reply.

„The door will swing like a doves wing, then!“

A shift in the world, the horizon's turning, and with a dizzy groan Thor finds himself taking Loki hard from behind like animals do. Like he once was told men who have sex with men do. The sudden touch, so very _tight_ around him, hits him like a jolt and almost makes him faint. And Lokis bruised and cut open back trembles and his spine arches in an impossible angle; his arms twitch from keeping hold of the supporting bed head. And Loki pants loud with Thors every blow. In and out. So smoothly (just where his knuckle stuck). And, deeply bewildered by the weight of his lust making his body cringe and almost burst, almost, Thor yelps, suddenly afraid to come and flood the hot springs pool, _that place_ , too small to take him. But there's the throne howling in the distance. And if he'd turn around to glimpse over his shoulder he'd absolutely find Sif standing and staring. No. _No, no, no._ Thor can't help but fervently need to hide and get completely _inside_.

Thrusting, never stopping his pace, gripping brutally into his brothers hips, Thor straightens his back then and finds himself face to face with Loki, Loki beneath still squirming and moaning, Loki above leaning in for a kiss. And Thor doesn't hesitate, he kisses his brother like lovers do. It's not what they do. But thirstily he sinks into these tender lips, tastes them, licks deeper, drinks and sucks. Escapes. But then the lips are gone, the kiss is gone. And he finds Lokis leaking length pulsing against his tongue. Thor opens his mouth around it, astonished and groaning, just to suck (kiss) even deeper. And he slings his arms around his brothers hips like an embrace. But Loki melts away all down his greedy throat. And all Thor tastes is blood.

Searching he turns his head to left and right, up, down again, and then his dazed eyes finally see Loki kneeling between his naked thighs. He finds his own big hands clawing into his brothers hair, into his skull, forcing him all onto his mighty and demanding curve of flesh. Lokis lips slick and blushed Thor sees himself shove all he has to give into his brothers spread open mouth. But Loki takes him only just, his nostrils blowing up in panic, his jaw trembling, his throat desperately trying to gulp. Or sob. A stitch cuts off Thors breath, cutting the word _rape_ into his throat.

Lokis eyes, shiny with angry tears, dart up to Thors, nothing written in their liquid color but that one reproach: _Who meets his brother the way you do?_

Thor pulls out with a yell, stumbling back and falling, hips thrusting into the violent chills up on the mountaintop. He lands hard on his sweating side, rock scratching against skin, rock hitting against bone, and Loki pants noisily for air, stands up on trembling knees and slowly limps towards the cliff. He shoots Thor a simple last glance, saying: „I should have jumped.“

And then he jumps; the dull sound of a body crashing to the faraway ground. And somewhere distant Thor hears their mother cry.

He wakes with a raw gasp on his lips. His ears scream with deafness, his heart blows up to fill his every limb and pump him into pieces. He lies still, staring to the nightdark ceiling, shivering in sweat and tears, not daring to breathe. His eyes are wide. And it doesn't matter if they get used to the dark, if they remember how to recognize familiar schemes in the all consuming shades of blackness. All they see is Loki. Loki jumping off the mountain.

A sleepy sigh to his left makes him jerk into reality. Sif moves in half sleep, always tangled in her own dreams landscape. But she must have heard Thor gasp. Eyes closed she murmurs a voiceless sound, asking: „Thor?“

He gets up on his elbow to stare at the blurred shimmer of her shoulder, her neck, her jaw and ear. And with trembling fingers he reaches out: All he feels is peaceful skin, the cheek under the closed ring of her lashes warm and soft and nothing to be scared of. No gold, no iron. Just Sif. Queen or not, this is _Sif_. And he knows her since they were children. Why would he be scared of Sif once she wore a nothing called crown, a lifeless thing, a band of gold on her head, no more but a symbol, never to really change her? Thor gulps and his throat is painfully dry as he remembers how he forced himself to be strong last night, to grow up and get over his childish fears, how he tried to sleep with her, to please her and her horribly beautiful body, how he tried not to show that he felt like having to bed a monster he wouldn't be able to cope with. And how he yearned for Loki, then. _I was a fool. Such a hopeless fool._ Loki would SO have called him an oaf now.

If Thor hadn't made him leave. If Thor hadn't wronged him so. _I had sex with Loki._

Again there's that picture of his brother jumping off the mountain. Thor squirms and whimpers as if a crop fell down onto his back. And Sif moves, though unable to really leave sleeps gentle embrace. She tries to mutter something.

„Sh-shhhh … it's nothing“, Thor whispers and slightly kisses her forehead, „I'm restless. But sleep on, sleep ... “ And as she sighs into a deeper slumber again he carefully gets out of bed.

Thor doesn't notice he's naked. He doesn't really feel his limbs. No, that's not true, he does. Too much, actually. He very much feels how _hard_ he is, echoing still with Loki in his ears, in his dreams, his hands and mouth and – guilt makes him hiss out. Pacing Thor slowly shoves his length through his own fist: He throbs like an iron bow just being forged and hammered on in fire. _I had sex with Loki_ , he bitterly thinks. Another whimper leaves his throat. His thumb slides down his side to find the fleshy head of his release craving monster. _I slept with Loki._ Scratching himself with brute anger his hips give a thrust, muscles tense like a bulls thighs in heat. _I slept with Loki._ As his hungry tip brushes the raw stone of the window ledge he almost shouts; when did his feet carry him here? Staring into the open night pain bites through him. Well deserved pain fighting this filthy lust, but not to win, no, no. _I slept with Loki. So many times._ Thor gulps with force and ends in a teardrowned whine as he splashes against the wall. His erupting length melts slack now in his fist, spurting out last shots until he only dribbles, hanging like an oozy slug. And there's the echo of that whisper in his ears again, sending a shiver down his spine: _Brother._

_He was right and I was wrong._

Exhausted Thor reaches out with his free hand, head hanging low, and Mjolnir eagerly submits to its masters demands, storms on and nestles its shaft, humming with power, into Thors palm. The sound it gives, a short, hollow and low beat, reminds the prince of Asgard all too well of that dull sound of a body hitting the floor. A heartbeat long he sees Loki jump again.

And then he jumps himself, out of the window, up into the nightsky, Mjolnir leading straight the way. All day long yesterday, all realms and places, nothing has pushed Thor more than the fervent hope of finding his brother. Anywhere. All racing him on now is the desperate plea not to find him _there_ ; Thor hasn't looked for Loki on their mountain yet. Or on the sharp edged boulder slopes beneath.

He doesn't find him, of course. Sending flashes down the rocks Thor soars in hard rain and roaring winds washing all over his bare body, illuminating the mountain from all sides and angles. Every pebble of the cursed right shape makes the Thunderer rush towards it, suddenly sick and heavy, to reassure himself of what the last flash made him really glimpse: Wasn't this a tiny knee, that a fragile chest, a crushed arm halfway buried between raindark rocks?

No. Always again it wasn't. But though he'd probably feel deep relief at every false vision of a Loki who lept into sheer death … they only leave Thor with another painful bite eaten out of his lungs.

After felt eternities of wasting his strength round the mountain, that monument of shame, that evil tower better blasted by one last thunderbolt holding all Thors bitter hate, the Thunderer finds himself soaking and frozen to his very bones from storming all naked and small through the storms he himself summoned. And so he more falls than lands on that evenly molded stone terrace, the place where he brought Loki barely two days ago. Weakness stealing into him his fingers are no longer able to hold Mjolnir, they just let go. It clanks to the ground. And Thor stands up, no more flashes to lighten up his view, the winds growing less furious but sad, and the rain not smashed from one side to the other anymore, only pouring straight down on him like tears. Thor looks around this place and all is foreign in a horribly familiar way. Ahead lies that tiny cave in the mountaintop, a deceiving shelter. Shaking like a leaf Thor just decides to hide there for a while.

It's only two arms deep. But no rain gets in here. It's dark, of course, but not all black. Thor sees some patterns here and there. A shadow hollowing the spot out where he hammered Lokis back into the stone wall. The boulders where he rested his head, waiting, once he awoke from his madness to find Loki abused and unable to do anything but curl into a ball. And again Thor remembers. The unexpected kiss. The skin. Breaths and yells. Scents and tastes. _That place_. Thor howls out as weeping tries to choke him. Howling, howling again he's thankful, though, that he's at least too numb to feel if lust wins over remorse once more. Slamming his hands against the wall, right and left from where Loki was and isn't now, he glimpses down his trembling body. But it's too dark. He cannot see his shame. And that's just good.

Instead he sees bruises, though, and blood, and desperate glares shooting hate from emerald eyes. He sees Lokis face twisted in pain. Tears. The smirk Loki tried to hide when he still thought Thor's joking with him: That triumphant smile when he spread his legs for him the first time, not knowing Thor would _really_ accept his idiotic offer (for he couldn't know, could he? Thinking he did was just a too pleasant excuse for really having opened Lokis belt – voluntarily). Thor sees his brothers every face when he sucked him, watched him, his every nervously twitched eyebrow, his gulps, licked lips, his sometimes blown up nostrils, angry to be used again.

Like this Thor cries. And throws his forehead against the wall. And sinks to his knees. To cry.

And then, for the worse, he sees Loki just heartily smile, sees the furious blush on his cheeks when he lost a tussle against Thor again, the nervous and deeply concentrated twitching in his lashes when he read a special book. The arrogant glimpses saying _I am far above you_ that he shot at the Warriors Three and Sif whenever they made him feel small. The sparkle in his eyes when one of his tricks worked the very mischievous best.

_What if I never see him smile again?_

And this makes Thor suddenly and so painfully regret, his sobs die out abruptly. So he sits, back pressed against the wall, legs sprawled out on the the floor, arms hanging weak down both his sides without pride and posture. Breathing cuts him. So he tries not to breathe too deep. But a new sob forces him to as he finds his left hand absently stroking the floor where he put his brother down once they were done in the wall; that was his first time _really_ having him. And all of him, not only some. Thor wanted him then, didn't he? Only the mad result of this want - Loki badly bruised and Thor horrified by the thought of admitting to himself that he had sex with Loki and _wanted_ it - made him hide behind that farce of a lie saying there's a difference between what they did before and what they did on the mountain. The only difference remaining still is that here it was Thors very first time having and taking and wanting _all_ of Loki. The first and maybe the last time.

 _I just didn't want to know what all this was to you_ , Thor remembers saying to Loki. Oh, how he should have said this to himself! _He was right and I was wrong._

Thor snivels and closes his eyes, sweetly regretting that he didn't even really enjoy Loki once he got him whole. Regretting what he missed in his overwhelming flush once Loki was all his. He should have kissed his slow way down his chest, teasing his nipples pink, placing a deep, warm breath into his navel. He should have dug his nose behind his ear and licked that secret skin lying flat on the skull just where the silken hair grows out. He should have buried his whole face in named hair and breathed it in until he tasted raven wings. He should have touched more cautiously, more conscious, should have stroked his palms with his thumbs and swallowed all his sighs in endless kisses. He should have loved him.

_I'd love you now._

But it's too late now, isn't it? Loki left thinking that all along Thor wanted nothing but using him as a shield against his fears of the future – and Thor wanted to think so himself. But Loki was right when he said Thor didn't touch Sif once he couldn't touch Loki. And why? Why? There's more to this than what Thor made Loki and even himself believe. She _was_ there. And yes, he feared her. But if he's honest now that didn't really bother him then. What bothered him was the obsessive thought of wanting Loki who abstained from his touch. And it was no game. It wasn't all along. Loki just knew that long before Thor.

_Well played, brother - I didn't play anything!_

All numb Thor sits and stares into dawn crawling up over the edge of the mountains cliff. All numb Thor stares and watches Loki jump some times over and over and over again. Until he finds himself able to decide to stand up and fly back home. _He's not here._ There's no reason for staying any longer.

Thor won't give up that soon, though. This is only one more place removed from his list. He'll search the woods of Vanaheim today. And many other places. If only to find his brother and swear to him he'll never ever touch him again.

No one sees him on his flight back down. It's not yet the time for Asgardians to get up. And none down there seems to be willing to change their habits even now that prince Loki's gone. So no one sees prince Thor return all naked, still dripping from rain, entering his chambers through the window. Not even Sif – for Sif is no longer there. She must have left when she found the bed empty beside her.

 


	22. How to steal out impasses

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Woa, that was a nut. I hope you like this one at least a tiny bit - I personally hate this chapter D:

 

 

 

As morning dawns lonely above the palace Loki sits on the throne of Asgard. Needless to say he's invisible again.

That moment when he lost control and almost fell from the balcony to give that pitiful everything his stomach had to offer down into the gardens didn't last longer than a mere heartbeat. But long enough to scare him to death. What if Heimdall glimpsed him? Nowhere distant but in Asgard, home, with his spine cramped like a bow and vomiting like a twelve years old drunken for the first time of his life? After all the troubles and worries he had caused?

_How am I ever to explain that?_

At this sudden horror something like electricity shot through Lokis already humming skull. And so he forced all his left magics to hide his body from every living eye once more. Then he slid down to his weak knees, turning around to lean against the balustrade and breathe.

He breathed a long while. But after what may have been hours and felt like only seconds he found his body restless. And his mind totally dead. With twitching feet and an all too light stomach he stood up again and crept back into the inner labyrinth of Asgards hallways.

He ended at Thors door again; of course he did. Where else should he have gone?

Pressing an ear to the strong wooded surface of the portal, which had been closed again after he'd slammed it open like a sudden hurricane, Loki listened. There was nothing first. Then a whimper. Then a sleepy groan. And Lokis heart sagged deeper down his chest than it should hang. But he didn't hear Sif.

Were they still on it? And how much time had passed at all since Loki'd stormed away?

He secretly opened the door before he even knew he did.

The sight presented to him was unexpected, though. Cocking his brows Loki examined the picture only just lit by nights hidden lights: There was Thor lying on his back, sleeping it seemed, and he jerked under the thin blanket like having some kind of nightmare. Sif was there, too. But she lay far at the other side of the bed and had turned herself around to show only her bare back to Thor. As to how her shoulder slowly rose and fell again she was cozily asleep, unaware of her fianzees nightly struggle.

Watching Thors sweat-coated face twist, watching his tense neck stretch and turn, his broad chest heave in what looked like pain, Loki frowned in the doorway. Then once more he glimpsed over his brothers hectic mass to the perfectly and peacefully contrasting Sif; when a sudden kick of Thors heel or a knock of a jerking knee hit her body she gave a long low moan. But that was all. Really, how did she _sleep_ next to such a nervous mountain of muscles?

 _Must be out of habit_ , Loki mused. _Maybe Thors always such a twitchy sleeper._

And Loki realized that he didn't know. The last time he'd really seen his brother sleep was just too long ago. Back in their childhood. Loki realized that he didn't really know his brother anymore. But Sif seemed to. Thor and Sif. So boring and so normal and so right. Thor and Sif.

Closing his eyes Loki decided to leave. Another whine from Thors lips reached his ears. But it cruelly felt like having nothing to do with him. Loki was but a ridiculous intruder to these two persons, wasn't he? There wasn't even anything special to them: a man and a woman, soon to be married, having their troubles, cheating each other, yes, but always making up again. Loki shouldn't have returned to their chambers. He shouldn't have watched and disturbed their intimacy. _Twice_ this night now. Loki just didn't have anything to do with them.

But instead of leaving he crept closer; of course he did.

As he positioned himself right beside his brother he stood very straight and watched Thors pitiful tries to breathe. Loki gulped. And blinked. And felt something bite his throat from within as the sudden image of his brother taking Sif returned to his vision. As the sudden echo of his jealous hate made him feel utterly selfish and childish.

Thor had been so strong tonight. His fears had been so real, hadn't they? Loki'd seen it in his eyes when he'd accidentally tickled the true form of his horrors out his mouth. _Sif is like the throne._ And still, tonight Thor'd managed to conquer at least a first challenging part of these fears, only trying to grow up, only trying to grow into being a worthy king and do what's right. He'd been so brave.

 _I should never have hated him for doing what's right._ Quiet and very, very hurt protests crawled through Lokis absent mind at this, _he used me so_ , but only to be brushed aside again. _He's not to blame._ Somehow nothing made any sense to Loki anymore.

A deep sadness spread its cooling petals open in his sore chest; a weary and weak touch of feeling utmost sorry. For both of them. But the fight was over, this Loki knew. He didn't even know _what_ fight anymore. As he looked down to his sleeping, struggling brother, helpless in his mighty strength, Loki just …

Maybe he wanted to soothe him. Maybe this is why his fingertips brushed that bare shoulder, stroked down to halt at the center of that shivering chest. Maybe this is why he slowly sank to his knees, shoving his flat palm secretly under the sheets to lay it gently upon Thors navel, feeling muscles as hard as to definitely hurt twitching nervously beneath fever-damp skin. And for a moment Thors nightmares seemed to calm down.

A warming shudder crawled over Lokis skin, burning the edges of his ears, the tip of his nose. His lips.

No one needed to know. Loki was invisible, wasn't he? And Thor was so far gone. He wouldn't have noticed like when Loki'd viciously disturbed him on Sif. No. Loki could've leaned down for a secret kiss now without doing any kind of evil. He would've done no more but stilled a thievish need. A dream. Something unreal.

Letting his lips brush those sleeping beneath him oh so gently he breathed in that warm breath stroking his skin, prepared with shivering lungs for _tasting_. But something held him back.

Their past kisses had all been lead by blinded passion and anger and greed and despair. Even hate. They'd all been impossibly stolen from fate and thus too dangerous to be true. But this one he could have cherished. And Lokis heart ached for he knew even now he craved to. Even after all that had been said and done. And heard. And seen.

_Impossible._

Softly, like catching air in his mouth, he tried to cup his brothers lips in his, hesitated, bashfully backed away again, lips trembling in fear, in shame, in saddest guilt, and tried to near his brothers mouth once more, tried to dare to really touch.

But then Thor whined under him. And suddenly Loki remembered a distinct pain: _'Kissing a brother that way is sick, Loki!'_ And yes, though Thor had almost driven Loki beyond frustrations outer edges with the complete absence of his brain in their cracked up talk Thor'd HAD a point in this. Kissing a brother (that way) was even worse than simplest physical incest. It was madness; it was _love_.

Not even the wistful thought of making Thor taste him in the morning made Loki eventually pull through this. With burning eyes seeing too clear and sharp in this darkness he stood up all dizzy and confused to stagger back away again.

And when Thor, caught in his desperate sleep, started to whisper and to hiss (as if he somehow felt a loss), to moan unclear sounds, when Thor started to rock his open thighs lazily up from the mattress, his great length slowly rising under the sheets sliding across his skin with every move, when a first rough _Loki_ , heady with fearful lust, fought its way out his throat ... Loki had long disappeared again. Not knowing his brother was deathly close to just so give away their hideous secret - depending on Sif sleeping through her lovers wet dreams or waking to find out everything from him bucking his hips, panting his brothers name.

Lurking around Asgards too long and too empty hallways once more Loki somewhen got lost in thoughts. Well, he didn't really _think_ these thoughts. He merely noticed them in the back of his mind, trying to make themselves heard, to set him into sheer alarm. In vain, though. They didn't rouse anything in him worth being called emotion.

He was thirsty. He was cold. He was dizzy. He should've stopped and sat down where he stood (but he didn't). He found his magics quiver dangerously now and then. Every eighth or ninth step, to be unnecessarily precise. He found it quiver and weaken around him in waves. Inside of him he already found it numb. He knew he couldn't hide this way for all to long anymore. He realized he'd been lazy and hadn't even healed a tiny bit this whole past day (although he probably should have). And he realized that, if suddenly invisibility had fallen from him body, he would've been found - the healers! - with a torn open butt and his manhood pitifully bitten purple. He should've risked concentrating his magics on healing at least these most abasing wounds and evidences of his shame immediately – but he wasn't sure if then he'd lost invisibility at once.

Suddenly, and this was when a beat pumped through his chest he recalled as a feeling, something like dismay, he realized that he had not yet wasted a single thought on how he was to come home at all. How he was to explain where he'd been.

A sudden panic made him look up – and see where his feet had carried him. There stood the throne in front of him, cool and so small in the dead of the night. That goddamned throne, root of the crisis, which was to be blamed for everything.

Gloomy hate shining from his eyes he skulked closer. A sudden urge to somehow take revenge, to punish, no, infamize this cursed thing took his breath away. Taking one step after another down the endless hall and finally up the gleaming stairs to reach his chosen victim Lokis body shook. But as he found himself right before it, staring down onto the golden surface of its seat, he didn't have a clue what to do. Kick it and break a toe? Smash it with magic? What magic? That pitiful rest left in him? Spit on it, then? Would that really have been enough a symbol to smear back all these sins born from its ugly glory?

No. But there was something even _better_ ; personifying Asgards most evil disease Loki sat down.

Grinning Loki sat himself down onto the throne, triumphantly profaning it with his unworthy presence. A bitter laughter shot out his mouth as he watched his hands claw into the iron armrests, as he glimpsed down his whole seated figure still safely embedded in that dreamy white shimmer of invisibility floating from dull and unreal skin and fabric like smoke; how he was visible for only his own eyes. And then he glared up again, ahead into the wide and dark and empty hall in front of him, in front of a small and hurt and unseen king. An unlawful king.

_King of nothing. King left-behind. King Loki._

He groaned into a heartbreaking sob. His jaw trembled, his open lips grimaced into a silent scream, his throat cramped hard enough to almost cut his breathing off - as he finally really wept.

 _What a king would I have been?_ If not Thor but he'd been the firstborn?

 _One mocked and blamed without a reason._ Loki bitterly smirks at this, face streaming with tears. _A king wanted dead by his people even before being given the chance to disappoint them._

He'd always known he wasn't to be sitting here. He'd not been raised to rule. And in the end he'd never really wanted to anyways, brothers rivalry or not. Loki had never wanted to be king. But people thought otherwise. They thought they knew him. Thought they had the right to judge him. And it wasn't fair. Just because he was the younger son, because he was a little shorter, a little weaker, a little slyer than Thor they called him jealous and vicious and pathetic. It all just wasn't fair. How was he to come back home if home was a place _despising_ him so?

And crying still Loki thought of his mother. And of his father. And of Thor. The only ones who knew him and knew it all better than the rest. Well, almost. These only ones who it would have been worth returning to were now the ones Loki couldn't look into the eyes. He tried not to imagine how the color would've fled Friggas cheeks and how Odins weary lid would've closed to shield away his disappointed gaze if they-

_If they found out._

And Thor? _My brother._ How was Loki to ever look at him again?

A thunder rolled through the distant skies. Flashes shot and rain washed merciless onto the mountains far away from where prince Loki sat in someone elses throne. But even here the hall grew darker round him in the thunderstorm. And now he saw his hands only with the lightnings glares. Like this Loki sat through the night, hollowed out and desperate. He couldn't heal. He couldn't sleep. He couldn't leave. And he couldn't come home.

One moment, just a haunted heartbeat long, he swore he glimpsed his hands turn jotun blue.

 

.

 

.

 

.

 

As morning dawns lonely above the palace Loki idly wonders how he is actually still able to stay invisible – exhausted to the bone as he is. A sudden thought occurs to him; what if it's all the opposite way and his growing lack of magic doesn't endanger him of falling back into visibility but of soon being too weak to get rid of his own spellcloak again? And he wonders if he could die this way. If his body would ever be found. Can magic work even after the life which summoned it died out? Cocking a bored eyebrow he sighs. These stupid thoughts carry way too far now and only keep him from thinking about what really matters.

_Dying invisible. That would be strange._

Frowning over himself he shakes all useless theories off and tries to get to his feet instead of brooding over nonsense any longer. He urgently needs some water now. And he's starving. There is a garden nearby, nearer than the kitchens. There is a waterspout fountain and there grow pears.

Early sunlight touching his face Loki takes a deep and needed breath as he walks the paths between little meadows leading to the center of the garden. The air is pure after last nights tempest. Nature, even the tamed vision of it, fills any empty being up again. Slowly. Gently. Unconditionally. And as Loki reaches the well, a great, round marble basin with the statue of a wild boar in the middle forever spouting fountains up into the air, he dips his white hands into clear and glimmering water with a trembling sigh. He kneels on the broad edge and bows his head down to drink. And drink even more. Jadedly he washes his face. And then he just sits for a while, water dripping from his chin.

Loki turns his head, looking for the pears he knows are growing somewhere here, ready to be plucked by hungry fingers – as loud horns suddenly make him jerk. The shred of peace he found only moments ago is directly gone. The search company must have gathered in the great hall again, like yesterday. Thor will be telling them where he wants to hunt for his lost brother today. Loki gulps.

 _I can't go on like this. I must finally make a decision._ He gulps once more, harder this time, and for a moment he fears to just fall over into the well like a heavy sack of potatoes. Suddenly there is a pain, a pressure breaking his ribs to his inside.

He probably should … but he cannot pull through leaving home forever, can he? Where shall he go? Loki doesn't have anywhere and, what's even worse, anyone to go to but Asgard and his family. Then again pride and shame and hurt forbid him to return. He just _can't_. Never before has anything been this impossible to him. But he can't leave, either. Knowing he'd never see his mothers face again, knowing he left her with cruel woe and sorrow would tear his heart apart. But returning to look into her eyes, knowing she only loves him still because she doesn't have a clue about _what they did_ … wouldn't that kill him, too? And she'd find out. She's a mother. Loki wouldn't ever be able to breathe the same way again in his brothers presence. She'd smell it … and one day she'd know. She'd probably forgive Thor. Thor is stupid. She knows her son. He didn't know what he _really_ did. But Loki isn't stupid. Loki wouldn't be that easily forgiven. Of course she'd try to. But she'd fail. And he'd forever see it in her eyes. Wouldn't it be better then, especially for her, to mourn a son instead of being ashamed of him?

But … he'd also never see Thor again. No matter how hard it may seem to ever face him after all … if Loki left Asgard he left Thor behind. He'd never see him again.

All at once tears blind his sight and he sobs for air utterly horrified. Turning his face not knowing where to turn he glimpses hectic schemes of the garden, colors and lights and shadows. And one ray of the sun, falling with such grace between the tree trunks and branches that a heartbeat long it beautifully fools poor Loki into seeing a stag. The golden stag. He blinks and it's gone. But suddenly he feels his horrors melt and wash away, feels his mind calm deeply down and concentrate into one single and clearest direction.

_Today they'll search the woods of Vanaheim._

A gleeful plea flutters through him like a bird at the memory of these woods - and the magic, and the trees. And the golden stag.

 _Yes,_ his heart sobs, _I want to see Vanaheims woods again._ Something beautiful and pure. Something to drown out all this ugly filth staining his life.

Loki smiles. It's like a door threw itself open in front of him. Lightheaded and eager in relief he sits up and hurries to secretly join the search company. They won't be noticing one horse without a rider once they stormed over the Bifrost. He'll just slip through with them, out into freedom. There his exhausted powers would restore, there he could heal and stay forever unseen. He'd have magics to breathe, he'd have shelter from his sins. A home. And something golden.

 


	23. Almost

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Updating my tags I just realized that the word THERAPIST can be easily split up into THE RAPIST OMG ILLUMINATI WHOAAAAA!
> 
> I really need to speed up my writing, though. This ends up being a one chapter a month story :/

 

 

 

Thor roams the woods on foot. Hours have passed by now. And tree trunk after bough and branch and bush and root and flower passed him by like heartbeats. Thor is deep in this strange and serene forest, his steps taking him farther off from where the others are. This is a dark and silent part of the wood. Whispers seem to hide in leaves and mosses and secret glowings flee from his eyes whenever he stops and stares at them – just to make their bodies, fragile blossoms and tendrils, shine even stranger once he glanced away again. It's been a while since he distantly heard the hooves of his companions.

When the search company arrived on a green hill falling softly down into floods of majestic and ancient, so, so ancient trees Thor left his mare before the forest; he didn't want to find Loki looking down on him from the back of a pursuing horse like on a hunted fox. The riders formed little groups and stormed into different directions then, every warrior a horn at his belt to directly blow a signal if his eyes spotted the lost and searched for prince Loki.

Sif wanted to accompany Thor on his chosen route. And so wanted the Warriors Three. But Thor insisted on looking for his brother alone; confused but obedient they let him.

„He's not dead, Thor“, Sif assured him once more before departing. But to Thor she sounded a bit too cold hearted. And she didn't bother look at him. Waking up in bed alone must have upset her more than Thor found himself able to care for. Instead he childishly cared for the fact that she'd visited this realm with Loki before – alone. And that she'd seen his brother enjoy this place. Something Thor would possibly never witness.

„He's not dead“, she repeated. „He would have let you see him die. Loki wouldn't pull through dying without duly audience. Not even by accident.“

And then she was off, pride personified on her mare. And Thor took a deep breath before slowly strolling down the hill, too, to let himself be swallowed by the forests shades, just going where the wood would lead him.

Now he wonders, silently stalking paths overgrown by time and wilderness, he wonders with a heavy heart and fingers cold with sweat: Will he find his brother here? Will Loki let himself be found? And if, what then? Will he run from Thor? Laugh at his desperate try to bring him back home? Is there any hope to this mission at all? Or …

No. Maybe Sif didn't say it with too much a heart, but Loki isn't dead. He CANNOT be. Somehow Thor knows, desperately just has to believe it at least. In spite of his nightmares and the horrid trip on the mountain last night. _No._ Thor shakes his head as he hears a body crash down onto endless rocks and boulders again.

In a way Loki's always been stronger than Thor. In his will and mind. And, instead of everyone else, Thor knows _exactly_ what reasons made his brother disappear – no deathly magics suddenly broken out of control tearing his body apart and into dimensions unknown – and it's just not Loki to kill himself like this.

_You wouldn't let me make you kill yourself. You wouldn't let anyone triumph over you so._

Not that Thor would see it a triumph, his brother suiciding to escape that foul and evil mess of incest and abuse and rejection Thor threw upon him. _Nine._ As he tastes iron in his cheek he realizes that he bit himself. Somehow the forest seems just far too strange and distant, this empty distance strangling him. Just like his dreams.

He gulps, fists shaking, feet suddenly even more frantic in their walk towards an indefinite aim. Leaves sizzle under his steps into the black, soft, earthen ground, dead boughs break in his way as he marches on between these countless giants that the trunks of Vanaheims trees are. And when he glimpses something bright, something different to the foreign glimmer of the wood, he halts to narrow his eyes and stare.

Some ten feet off there's daylight blinding through the trees; a clearing. But there's not only daylight. There's something … he cannot really see it, something … golden? And it moves fast like a running animal. He doesn't know what to make of this but Thor already finds himself racing the creature down, too curious to let this pass. Only some heartbeats and he breaks out of the shadows into an open meadow of long grasses and flowers pulsating in an unreal shimmer – as suddenly he feels like thrown into a wall of air.

A groaning wall of air stumbling backwards to the ground. A flickering wall of air turning into a figure lying helplessly sprawled out in the grass, hands covering a bleeding nose.

_Loki._

Thor stands shocked for a moment and can't but gaze down at his brother there on the ground, watch him let out just another groan with eyes pressed shut. As if he's not been gone at all. Thor just stands and stares and, how silly, examines Lokis clothes which are exactly the same he pulled out of his brothers drawer that fatal morning to dress his bare and weary body; Loki had fallen asleep under him, yes, and Thor felt guilty for he'd once again been just too weak to resist touching him. Thor stares down onto Lokis chest heaving on the ground with that exact tunic on he carefully put onto him then, every button closed hiding another bit of milky skin (and bruises). These exact trousers he'd slipped up both Lokis droopy legs gentle enough to tickle but a single sleepy sigh from him. He didn't put on any boots. And barefooted still Loki lies now slack like a worn out plushie right before his eyes - and jerks as he fingers the bridge of his nose. Loki. Alive. Not dead.

_LOKI._

With a sob of relief Thor throws himself upon his brother and pulls his shoulders up into a hard embrace, one to never let go again. A gasp flees Lokis mouth and his eyes spring open as he tries to figure out what's suddenly ripping him up, squeezing his breath out his chest, caging the back of his head with one and the small of his back with another strong hand, though he didn't even yet realize what knocked him down at all.

„Brother“, Thor grunts with tears in his eyes as he presses a kiss onto Lokis temple, just one of many more, „I thought you're dead - I saw you jump - always again - I knew you couldn't be, but - I thought – I'm sorry!“ And kissing still, kissing Lokis every spot of face, Thor ruefully mumbles: „You were right - and I was wrong. You were right and I was wrong.“

„Thor-“, Loki says, probably meaning _you're not making any sense_ and holding still in Thors too strong embrace like a paralyzed hare, but he's cut off by a kiss on his mouth. No deep but a fervent one. Not opening but sealing his lips. One never ending, it seems, only interrupted by sweet and stupid bits of words. One never ending or countless little ones following one another, running into a whole, no matter, following pants and sobs and sweet and stupid words like a stream flows eagerly around pretty pebbles.

Loki doesn't get the chance to speak. He tries to, three times he does, yet nothing but Thors name makes its way from his tongue. Thor, with a head far too light in unbelieving gratefulness, stutters broken bits of things he _knows_ he should be saying but just cannot get out right, always ending at the simplest and best way to explain himself in this goddamned mess: „You were right and I was wrong.“ And he can't stop planting loving kisses upon all this soft and warm and living _Loki_.

He doesn't really know when he ends at his brothers lips again. This time to stay. To calm. And to slow down. Exhausted but deeply relieved.

This is, however, when he remembers one last thing he didn't say aloud yet, one most important thing, he remembers with a shudder of remorse cramping his heart into a stone, to get Loki back home. Having found him safe and sound, Nine bless, does not yet mean having convinced him to return where he belongs.

And now that he found him … now that he found him Thor feels his body screech with weeping pain at the thought of going home without Loki. When he led the search company to Vanaheim he thought himself strong enough to be grateful even for the improbable gift of being allowed to apologize once more at all. He thought he'd be able to let Loki go if he wanted to. But ...

Thors fingers tremble as he tightens his grip around his brother, both thumbs caressing what they hold so dear. Eyes pressed close in fear to glimpse another farewell in his brothers gaze Thor takes a breath in at Lokis mouth.

„I swear“, he whispers, _pleas_ , secretly, bitterly begging for forgiveness, too gently cupping Lokis mouth in a helpless sip of a kiss once more, „I'll never touch you again.“

And Thor really, really means it. This rueful offer maybe not undoing his wrongs but chaining them forever. Thor really and solemnly means it.

_Let us have peace._

But Loki freezes even more in his arms. Thor feels it in the way his brothers neck grows stiff like a stick. And he feels it in the way Lokis spine cramps under his hand. As if he was a piece of ice there's suddenly the feeling of frost biting its way into the Thunderer, invading him from through his fingertips and crawling up his veins into just everywhere; it's fear. Slowly Thor opens his eyes and leans his forehead against Lokis, leaving his lips alone, and leans into a close up glimpse down his brothers face.

But it's only Loki. Nothing to explain this fear. Loki, lids shut and face unmoved.

„You“, Loki finally mutters, „kiss me … ?“

 _I swear …_ and in the very moment break that promise? That's a sheer mock! And proof of the very opposite. Thor gulps down needles as he feels well known and evil things just happen all over again.

_'You failed.'_

All hysteria he jumps to his feet and stumbles away to just free Loki from his childish, selfish, greedy, forcing self and presence. But he already fears this action comes too late. He already failed again, didn't he? He just RUINED it all once more!

Loki slumps back to the grass and immediately heaves himself up to his elbows again; eyes wandering idly over the ground he licks his lips like deep in thought. And he looks horrible. Even paler than usual and as worn out as if he didn't sleep in years, his hair a hopeless mess - and these dark rings under his lashes! The purple veins procuring from his lids.

The thin blood running out his beaten nose to then drip down his chin doesn't compliment the whole either.

 _This is all my doing._ Thor finds his throat swelling out any further breath at not just the sight of how he harmed Loki but also of what extremes he must have driven him to.

„I mean it, brother“, he sobs, his voice loud and lonely in the wide clearings air, „I can learn to leave you in peace! Come home and I'll never hurt you again! I swear, I- !“

There are no birds, no sounds at all to interrupt his words. Thor just _can't_ speak on any further.

It takes Loki a while to focus and respond. But as he raises his eyes they're finally sober and seeing again. „Are you kidding me? You“, he suddenly shouts in wild disbelief, „ you just broke my nose!“

And that REALLY doesn't speak for Thors dramatic promises. As did the kisses. _Hel._

„WHAT?“ Thor already wants to hurl himself at Lokis side again. But Loki keeps him from storming into him and probably doing even worse with lifting both his warning hands and frowning his most venomous gaze. And then he fingers his nose once more, making a face.

„Well, nearly. But GODS! WHERE did you come from at all? Are you MAD to plough a place like this like a WILD SOW?“

And it's just that – oh, no matter HOW serious the situation might be – this is when Thors natural temper comes through at last; he didn't ride his butt sore in ferociously searching all realms for Loki yesterday, he didn't worry his heart into a sheer cramp in uncertainty of whether he'd find him AT ALL or dead or alive, he didn't BAWL his naked guilty soul out on the mountain last night ... to be insulted like a stupid child! With a furious scowl Thor feels his chest heat up again after his freezing shock. And as he licks his lips he tastes the blood he kissed from Lokis lips. These goddamned lips.

„I came out from the wood“, every word a bite he angrily points with his finger behind himself, arm stretched out and all tensed muscles, „and I wasn't even running as hard as I COULD HAVE – YOU knocked yourself against ME with all force!“

Loki spits out a laugh: „With all force you say? I was cozily following the stag when suddenly a mountain jumped into me to block my way!“

„What STAG?“, Thor grunts just to grunt anything sounding like a reproach, not even sure if what he just asked to get explained is of any importance to him at all.

„The GOLDEN stag! The one I lost now, by the way. THANK YOU!“ Driven by anger Loki tries to stand up. But half the way his knees give in and he lands on his backside again. Frowning down his legs now trembling like a dying bugs ones he sucks in breath and awkwardly adds: „ … uhm, maybe I _was_ running.“

„What, MAYBE?“

„I-“

„So you were about to run yourself to ruins WITHOUT EVEN NOTICING?“

„I was not - !“

„Just LOOK at you! And HOWEVER, you leave everyone guessing whether you are dead or not to have a walk with SOME DEER? You have NO idea what trouble you caused in Asgard!“

„Oh, I think I can picture that PRETTY WELL“, Loki snaps, suddenly all aflame in rage again, „which is but ONE MORE REASON to NEVER return!“

At this Thors heart drops out of wrath and back into bare agony and fear of losing his brother. Again.

„Loki, - !“

„Stop wasting you time, Thor“, Loki glares at him and sits up. Suddenly the few steps between them are like miles. „Stop hunting me down. It is of no use anyways.“

„WAIT“, Thor yells as he sees his brothers body swim away into nothing but a dream of air – and he knows, Gods DAMN it, if he just hadn't let go moments ago, if only he just hadn't been that STUPID … ! - but Loki doesn't disappear. His figure slips back into all its usual presence. And they both frown. Snorting out Loki tries to vanish again, this time concentrating like focusing on whitehot pain, and he flickers - and he moans - and he fails back into reality, a whine pressed out through cramped shut teeth.

Loki breaks down into the grass once more, his head giving a dull bump as it hits the ground (what makes Thor flinch). And shouting and cursing between shivering sobs sudden tears stream down both Lokis temples.

Thors feet are glued to where they stand. He gulps. And he can't bring himself to move. He seldomly ever saw Loki cry that hard. A tear here and there. A silent sniff. But he never bawled that easily.

_Nine, what …_

Thor remembers how to use his voice. At least his voice.

„Are you … alright? Brother? LOKI … ?“

„NO, Thor! I am NOT alright! And I'm NOT COMING HOME!“

He only says that because he knows he's done and defeated. With no magics he cannot flee. With knees too weak to stand he cannot run from Thor. And he couldn't run from him even if his body was at its best health. They both know that. Loki is trapped. And nothing's left to him but scream out from that cage he's locked in. Yell for a freedom already lost. Thor sees that Loki knows it. And that he hates it, hates himself for giving into this last pity like a pighead instead of letting fate just happen with his chin drawn high and no words wasted where no words can help.

It breaks Thors heart to realize that he hasn't ever pitied Loki more. And to see how naturally he assumes Thor to just take him, force him, _rape_ him home.

 _Rape._ Thor shakes his head as if he tried to finally catapult this ugly word right out his ears and mind and soul.

„Your are … exhausted“, he absently remarks. Just to break the stuttering melody of Lokis sobs. But there comes no reply.

„Gods“, Thor sighs then, close to tears himself now, „you look horrible! What in all realms happened, brother? You've been gone for barely two days and I do not recognize you!“

Loki bites down his teeth with all his jaws strength to cruelly cut off his crying. Slugging down another whine he needs some time to find his tongue. Thor waits, weary and all too nervous at the same time.

„YOU happened, if I am not mistaken.“

At this he feels his blood freeze to hard iron strings in all his limbs. Tired he groans like just accepting this accusation and rubs his face with his hands, more to hide it than to whatever one rubs his face for. Taking three breaths in his palms he tries to gather enough courage to look again – and as he does he almost blacks out for Loki all at once stares at him with such a force, leering in sudden hate, trying to stand up one last time - this time to succeed.

„So what now? No apologies? No excuses?“

Are there really miles between them? Distances to never be bypassed? Even though Loki unconsciously takes one awkward step in Thors direction?

This all just feels too much like last nights nightmares.

„Loki, I - „

„Oh, SPARE me! I don't want to hear it. I DON'T want to listen! And that's only fair for I MYSELF have nothing more to say!“

„But I have! And you MUST listen! I've been“, Thor blushes, both in shame and fervor, but he's ready to fight now, to fight for whatever kind of pitiful happy ending they could still be granted, „I've been the GREATEST IDIOT ever born! I opened my eyes when you were gone. To everything!“

„Oh. Well, congratulations! I am SO happy for you!“

„No, Loki, you don't UNDERSTAND what I'm trying to tell you!“

„What is there not to understand? You're FINALLY aware of being a brotherfucker? Well, fine! That's now YOUR problem to cope with, not MINE! I left not only Asgard behind when I decided to be off!“

„You left ME! And I WANT YOU BACK!“

A pause. Loki gulps as hard as to force his veins to procure from his neck like almost bursting out from under the skin.

„And what for this time? To test resisting your filthy lusts at me? To fix the cracked up gay lingering in your shadow and feel like a hero? To make your fail or win at me indicate whether you're able to become a good king or not? My presence at your side an everlasting memorial of perversion and monument of having overcome it?“

„WHAT?“

„You could at least ACT like you're regretting that you used and tortured, blamed and mortified me and, oh, I almost forgot, that you FUCKED ME TIL I BLED!“ Loki stumbles closer as he spits the last words out, his great green eyes sore wound, weapons to kill.

„But I DO! And I swear it a thousand times MORE if needed: I'll NEVER ever touch you again!“

„THIS IS NOT THE POINT, OAF! THIS IS THE PROBLEM!“

„ … but you said-“

„I said BLABLA! I lie to you since I was BORN, when will you FINALLY get used to it?“

And this, who knows, might possibly be the very first true and purely true thing Loki ever said. Thor frowns, suddenly thrown out of the course he thought this fight would have to take.

„Gods, I was FREE! For a moment I really thought I was free. And now I stand here next to you AGAIN, arguing about things of no solution! Opened your eyes to everything you say! Very funny!“

„But – wait“, Thor takes some time to carefully breathe, sorting his confused mess of thoughts out, „You say … you lied? So what exactly do you mean by that?“

Loki groans.

„So you … you didn't go away because …?“ _… you finally fled from my touch?_

Thor doesn't recognize this feeling. He cannot claim to ever have felt this way before. Is it good? Bad? Is it, possibly … good? His next words really seem like anything but his own.

„You left because I didn't love you.“

Wide eyed he stares and watches Loki slowly come undone once more. Sobbing again his brother presses out: „You're a MONSTER! And you do not even KNOW what you've done!“

 _Oh ALL Nine._ This is a blank spear. This is no lie. This is no denying Thors statement - and all it means.

„NO, I – YES. I mean“, Thor dares a step forward, another, terrified and desperate now, eagerly closing the distance between them as if their time ran out just now, „YES. But I, ah – though I KNOW I shouldn't, I – I AM A MONSTER! I am“, and he needs far more breath than his lungs can take, and now he knows the feeling is too good and all too bad at once, he knows he's dying, yes, of course, dying at hope almost in reach but never to be more than _almost_ , and he wonders how long dying takes for he feels he's dying way too long by now, and so he ends his stuttering with one plain horrified, „I LOVE YOU!“

Loki, now close enough to touch, still teardrowned (Thor could wipe these tears away), cocks his eyebrows and blinks, tries not to be taken by surprise, but the shimmer of his too hurt hate glimmering from his gaze is gone. And Thor stands and stares and breathes and is not dead (but dying still). Loki gulps and shakes his head, takes a step back again.

„The last time you claimed to … didn't go anywhere good“, he giggles suddenly, totally uncomfortable, and hurries to wipe his cheek dry, „now really. I think we're done here. And if you“, a sniff, a gulp, a blink, „are only half as good a man as everyone believes, well, then you leave this realm as if you never met me. And tell Heimdall to be blind.“

But Thor won't be shaken off that easily. Something just makes him go for all or nothing now. Every step Loki takes back from him he follows with a longer pace.

„I love you“, he plainly says, „I loved you all along. I didn't notice. I didn't dare. I refused to admit it. I couldn't. But I loved you. I loved touching you. I loved making you love my touch. And I loved, loved, loved your kisses.“

Loki, frowning deep, can't help but only stagger faster backwards with Thors every further word. The distance doesn't grow between them, though, no, it's hopeless, they just near closer and closer.

„Oh, STOP that“, Loki exclaims, „you don't REALLY mean to trick me?“

Thor laughs, completely freed and happy for an insane moment, just going on with his confessions: „Know what? I want you. Wanted you all along. Last night I dreamed of having you in any possible way. And I knew I shouldn't – and I knew it was wrong – but I wanted it.“

Loki finally blushes like a young goose girl. Having reached the edge of the clearing he bumps against the broad, crumble-skinned body of a dark tree and jerks as his back hits the unexpected surface. But he never stops staring at Thor. Thor who is closing in. Thor who slams both his hands against the tree, right and left to Lokis ears. Thor who leans down to nuzzle his heavy head against the side of Lokis face like only lions do.

„Last night I lay with Sif“, Thor whispers, feeling his pulse like feeling it the first time of his life, „but in my mind I lay with you. And I knew it was wrong but... "

Loki hisses beside him.

" ...but I wanted you instead of her beneath me ... and then I ended up wanting you bad enough to hear your voice so real and close as you her mine. I thought I'm going crazy.“

Eyes wide and nostrils blown Loki sizzles a high pitched sound. Thor sucks in his scent and sighs deep and low against his cheekbone.

Loki could easily slip out his loose embrace – Thor doesn't force him with his body as he could – but Loki stays. Overwhelmed by almost touches, melting into the only one Thor grants him. Thor feels his body tickle and heat up in his own generosity – and Lokis secret and too sweet surrender.

„I could take you here and now. And take you back with me. And keep you. But“, after purring his rawest tones Thor suddenly withdraws from Lokis hair and skin to look at him, to make their eyes meet in intimacy, „I love you too much to steal this decision from you.“

Loki closes his eyes, no longer able to face Thors, and sighs and turns away like feeling mocked again: „Decisions are for kings.“

He wants to say: _You'll force me anyways. It doesn't matter to you what I want._ At least he wants to _lie_ this. In fact he says _decide for me so that I'll never have you tell me that I ran right back to you._

But Thor caught that tempted gulp. And these crumbling defenses no more able to perfectly protect their leader called 'overdone pride'. And the simple fact that Loki stays.

_Got you._

A dizzy flash shoots up Thors spine and explodes in a smile as glad as to nearly hurt on his face. The nightmare turned into sheer bliss! Now here he stands with Loki about to fall into his arms, all safe and sound and thankful to be held by him. His heart suddenly races in excitement to seduce – and to cherish every bit of it. Licking his lips his eyes trace the long lines of Lokis exposed neck; only a part of this beloved land he already mourned lost, this way around or the other.

The Nine had mercy.

„There is no king around, brother“, Thor lets his knee brush the inner sides of Lokis legs but slightly, as if by pure accident, and enjoys the way his brothers body shivers at the tiny sensation, „ … but I could try to help you ... choose.“

As he sends lazy and deliciously full lipped kisses down Lokis neck, open lipped, breathing, licking, one softer and warmer than the other, Loki can barely keep from squirming into these teasing touches. A sound pressed and cut into a sharp form of dying pride leaves his mouth. And he gulps again. And Thor feels it under his lips, a moment long reminded of this foreign fantasy he didn't know he craved until he saw it in his dream; of Loki ... sucking _him_. A shudder makes Thor feel his loins more than anything else.

„You say you lied“, he grumbles between nips and lazy smacks, voice even darker and rougher now. His fingers slightly stroke down Lokis shoulders to find rest on a lower place of the tree. A sound rolls through Lokis throat and he cannot keep it in, can't let it out, neither allowing his body to break away from whatever precious crime his brother just performs on him nor to support it.

„You say … you always wanted it?“

„I only say I could've said no.“

Thor chuckles. Loki sighs. No; It's a tiny moan.

„So … you mean, if I was … gentle“, Thor kisses his slow way up to his brothers face, they shift a little, both, and a stubbled jaw tickles a lip, a nose brushes an eyebrow, „ … then you'd let me …?“

„I don't mean we should -“

„I'll be gentle.“

„I doubt you can.“

„Let me-“

„ ... prove it?“

„Let me...“

Loki whimpers into Thors mouth. Finally needy enough.

„I love you“, Thor breathes.

„I hate you“, Loki lies.

And then they kiss. Slow and deep and rich. Whispered _loveyous_ and _hateyous_ melt into wordless sighs and voiceless words on both their lips as their bodies softly rear into one another and a close embrace, leaving no cold, no space between them. Hands and fingers wander to caress and hold and find anything to cling to. Some beautifully outstretched heartbeats long the clearing is all still again and nothing's to be heard but their kissing sounds. And they feel like they could really, really die like this. Forever.

But then there is a horn; there's someone who blew the signal horn.

They jerk and freeze like someone poured out ice cold water upon them. Thor feels Lokis heart hammer against his own through both their ribs.

Fandral stands and stares from the edge of the wood all too serious, perhaps not as reproachful as he should and maybe even sorry, even sad, but leaving no doubt at the rightfulness of his interrupting this phenomenon of _wrong_ he just came to witness. His arm holding the horn, this instrument of _treason_ , slowly sinks down his side again.

„So … I suggest you stop this now, guys. As much as I can probably pretend like I have not seen what I hope to never see again … I doubt the others will.“

Thor doesn't feel his body. It's nothing but a dull and empty place. He swears it's dead and gone as he finds his unbelieving gaze caught in Fandrals. There are unnatural waves of strange sounds and hummings in his ears. And something's stitching him open from within. Like bees under his skin.

This is when Loki totally freaks out.

As he furiously starts hitting and kicking Thor away he faintly realizes that this high, hoarse sound scratching his ears out is his brother hysterically trying to keep breathing. Thor glimpses Lokis face; a blur of too white and too red and naked fear. Absently he stumbles back, suddenly and completely out of context thinking to recall this face from when Loki must have fought beneath him on the mountain. Loki breaks to the floor like shaken by spasms.

„NO“, he screeches then, pointing with a trembling finger at Fandral like a madman, „I'm dead, I'm DEAD! Of all HE saw us! THOR, YOU JUST KILLED ME!“

Because if Fandral knows … everyone knows. Thor stands like slapped on a numb spot. And Loki yells a cry of panic once again.

„It'll be MY fault, like everything's ALWAYS my fault! They'll blame it ALL on me! They'll execute me for this! I'm DEAD, you KILLED me!“

„Lo-“, Fandral doesn't get any further. And Thor, all paralyzed, misses the chance to catch his brother as he shoots to his feet in sudden and unknown strength and darts away to be off like bleeding prey on its wildest and very last run.

There are hooves nearing now. The others heard Fandrals horn.

Thor, all at once again the thunder he was born to be, grimaces deep red hate at this TRAITOR lingering affected between the trees and spits one unmistakeable threat at him: „ONE word to ANYONE!“

And then he's off, joining a headless hunt through the forests of Vanaheim.

 


	24. Long way home

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 8888 Hits and I am uploading a new chapter :D  
> I RUSHED THIS THROUGH SO HARD to be faster this time - and the text just WOULDN'T end. We are at lots of drama plot now BUT! This chappers ALSO ends in a lovely angry smutty petting thing ;)  
> Next time I'll finally have to teach them how to oil the hinges, though.

 

 

And so prince Loki is back.

People push each other out of the way to get a better view of the returners; the whole search company is back on their many mares, the top of the strangely silent parade led by Thor and his lost brother. No high spirits accompany the prosperous mission, though, and thus no exultations dare to break free from the gazing crowd around. But murmurs do.

„Look, they found him!“

„Where?“

„Over there!“

„No, where they FOUND him!“

„In Vanaheim they say.“

„Oh no, he's back!“

„Nine, he looks dead!“

„Undead you mean-“

„And THOR!“

„The warriors say he was under some creatures spell – it tore him out of Asgard by magic and sucked the life from him.“

„What creature?“

„Maybe the one Lady Sif wanted him to track down – remember, wasn't this in Vanaheim?“

„But that was weeks ago! Why did it take him now and not then?“

„Because it didn't take him at all, you fools! He must have tried to _take it_ instead, wanting its powers for himself! That's why he made the Lady fail killing it! Overestimating himself, however, he almost died in the end, that's how it was!“

„What? It was HIS creature I heard, not the one the Lady was looking for. He created it himself!“

„No matter, I still think he just did it all for jealousy of his king-brother ...“

„But what about his secret romance? Didn't he run because of that?“

„They broke up I heard.“

„No, they fled together!“

„His lover was a man, imagine, and prince Thor himself saw them!“

„What?“

„He SAW them, Loki and his lover!“

„And aMAN?“

„YES already!“

„But THOR saw them?“

„Rutting like beasts!“

„Oh no!“

„So this is why he ran.“

„No, WAIT, he turned his LOVER into the creature he was seen with in Vanaheim! He had to get rid of him once they were found out, yeh? And then he sent him off!“

„Probably!“

„But why did he follow it, him, whatever, then? That doesn't make any sense at all. I don't follow what I want to get rid of!“

„And wouldn't he have done so directly after Thor caught them? It was Sif who last saw him, not Thor!“

„But you know his evil powers! Something went wrong and snatched him away when he didn't expect it anymore, all just by accident. Ha!“

„Ohhhh, and this is _exactly_ what people say he told the Lady in the library: that his sudden pangs were from a spell he'd lately practiced!“

„See?“

„All Realms, and now he's back under Asgards roofs … heavens have mercy!“

„I wonder what they'll do with him now …“

 

.

.

.

 

Sometimes things all at once take such fast roads.

Loki remembers running like mad. And he remembers being followed. Darkness between tree trunks, pale lights on the ground. And hooves. And horns. And Thor. Loki remembers how he ran with a pace he didn't know his legs could handle. And that somewhen his lungs must have imploded. He remembers running without lungs, without needing them. And Thor, he still cannot explain this to himself, just didn't get him.

He glimpsed the golden stag. And thankful, desperately hoping to be allowed to escape into its peaceful world at last, he blindly let it lead his way. And it did. Through the boughs and leaves it told him he was welcome; Loki almost died as this enchanted creatures otherworldly words caressed his sore, sore mind.

But he didn't see the abyss coming. And the stag couldn't know that Loki was of another nature than itself. That his legs, no stags ones, were not meant to perform such a wide leap. And Thor was at his heels, howling his name, daring him to stop. Loki couldn't stop.

He broke out of the forest onto a high hill. The sudden light blinded his eyes. And the slope was so _abruptly_ there. An instant and he already found his feet at the very edge, almost too late trying to regain his balance and to throw his body back and against the spiraling, yawning chasm eagerly pulling him down.

Thor caught him then, yelled his name into his ears. Too close, too loud. Like back on the mountain. Loki remembers fighting Thors grip slung round his elbows and waist from behind. He reared up, kicked and jerked and hit anything the back of his skull would meet; he must have looked like completely gone brainsick.

The golden stag had long set foot on the other side and disappeared into the woods again. Lokis eyes were tunneled into this direction of unreachable safety alone, they didn't really see the warriors on their mares circling the horrid scene. Until his brother finally overpowered him and pressed him belly up to the ground, still shouting his name with a voice Loki hadn't ever heard from him before. Then he glimpsed the crowd. But it didn't matter. These people didn't matter. Just as their gazes on him.

What mattered was that Loki had _again_ failed to escape; but slowly this wound, torn open just once more, rather numbed him instead of hurting.

He gave up. He didn't cry. He didn't say anything. And he didn't look at Thor. Or Fandral. Or at Sif. Defeated Loki let himself be brought home like a prisoner. Thor was a gloomy raincloud at his side.

What followed was but one flow of moments which should probably have been of unbearable weight to him but somehow just didn't feel ... important; snatched from Vanaheim by Heimdall, galloping over the long rainbow bridge and now through the streets and into the palace back home.

Too many emotions explode in him as he looks into his mothers eyes. Too many at a time to feel any of them at all. Not even as she falls at him and embraces his stiff figure and cries. Not even as father, too, steps to his side to touch his head.

Thor stands but a few paces off, gulping hard and watching his brother and their parents with highest caution.

Gently but fervent Frigga takes Lokis face into her hands, forcing him to meet her eyes again. Her face is a mask of sorrow as she looks at him: „Where have you been, my child? What happened?“

His first impulse is to answer. He wants to grant his mothers aching heart some comforting explanation. But for the first time of his life Loki feels like he hasn't ever had a voice to speak. And just no tiny lie will come to his hollow mind. Like having lost both voice and language at the same time. And the truth ... the truth wouldn't comfort her.

The truth _won't_ comfort her. Once she knows. He distantly wonders why he doesn't have tears to share with hers.

Odin sighs, touching first Friggas cheek, then Lokis shoulder with a calming pressure: „Can you speak, my son? Can you hear us?“

Loki frowns and turns in his mothers hands to face his fathers testing eye. „Yes“, he gets out against Friggas thumb.

„Good. And do you remember who you are?“

„Yes, I … “

„Tell me your name.“

Loki cocks his eyebrows. That's a joke, isn't it?

„Just speak.“

„I am Loki.“

„Go on“, Odin carefully encourages him. That's _really_ a joke, isn't it?

„Loki ... Odinson … ?“

The Allfather, that instant nothing but a worried and suddenly too old man, sighs again. A tension leaves his body, almost impossible to see, but leaving him different: „You'll have to tell us of your whereabouts these past two days. You'll have to try. Do you think you can?“

„Yes, I … “, Loki repeats himself. But he slowly looks back to his mother; lids shut she takes a shivering breath as if she just got away with a crime.

 _What did she say to father … 'what if he found out'_ … echoes through the back of his mind. But nothing gives him any sense to cling to, every try to form a clear thought nothing but a free fall through a void of mist. Like Loki's just not there.

Not many people are allowed to stay and participate in the conference directly convoked by Odinfather; Loki stays, Thor does, some few warriors who saw him run after the stag. And Sif. Fandral leaves with the Warriors Three; when asked who witnessed any details of importance he didn't raise his hand.

But it doesn't matter. If Fandral doesn't say it now – doesn't chirp it right into the Allfathers face – he'll spit it out another time. There is no reason to let false hope in to gash the wound of disappointment even deeper once things come to be how they eventually _must_ be.

Seated on the throne and hitting the ground one time with his scepter the Allfather fills up the whole wide hall with the liquid, clear sound of opening the speech.

The warriors are asked to give a short report of what they saw. One after the other tells the same: Prince Loki rushed through the forest and followed a golden stag when suddenly it leapt over a chasm at which prince Thor finally caught him. Like spellbound he fought to break free again.

They are allowed to leave then. Now there are only the three of them left; Loki, Thor and Sif. Kneeling before the throne. Well, Loki doesn't really kneel. He sits, suddenly too exhausted, his head hanging low.

„Now tell me“, Odin starts over again with a softer voice as he pats Friggas hand to his left, „what _you_ saw. Thor?“

„The same as everyone. Lokis back most of the time.“

„And the stag?“

„Not in detail. A blur of gold.“

„You blew the horn?“

No reply. A silence taken as _yes_. Odin sighs.

„And you, dear Lady Sif? Why did you raise your hand?“

„Because“, her voice trembles, her body stings with visible tension, „I saw the golden stag not only today. Today I saw not more than the others, maybe even less. But not long ago I asked Loki to accompany me to Vanaheims forests. I wanted to hunt down spoken of stag for Thors coronation. I heard of it to be unlikely tracked down by people without magic. This is why I asked Loki to help me find the creature. And he did.“

„Tell me more.“

„I didn't know it would – I know it was unwise and I really, really shouldn't have -“

„Stop!“ Sif jerks a little as Odins voice darts a pitch higher. But soft again he continues: „This is not the time to regret what cannot be undone. It is the time to clear up what is. Tell me more.“

She takes a deep breath before she speaks on: „We let Heimdall send us to Vanaheim. We landed directly in the forest. Barely there Loki was ... different. To say so. I sensed there was something in the air. But my mind told me that was just him. Isn't he always that strange? I thought magicians are that way, I-“

„Sif. What do you mean by _strange_?“ This is when Frigga interrupts the scene for the first time. Her face speaks of impatient worry.

„I'm sorry. He was like slightly … drunk. I don't really know how to explain it. He spoke of 'streams of magics'. I thought he was just a bit overwhelmed by the forest. And when we found the stag on a clearing his behavior grew even stranger. I asked him to lure the creature nearer to where we hid, maybe with an illusion or something similar, I don't know, I am unfamiliar with magics. But he stood up instead and neared the creature like he was sleepwalking. And the stag didn't run from him. With a bow ready to shoot I somehow knew there was something wrong – but – and then the stag turned around to look at him, only a moment – and I shot. It vanished. He said he lost its track and so we went back home. But all the way he smiled so … strange. I should have told you, I should have known! But how could I have? I thought that's just him. I didn't think of any danger. And I really couldn't have known the stags magic would reach him in another realm.“

„This is enough. Thank you for telling us now, Sif. It was very faithful of you not to remain silent.“ Odins weary eye leaves her and turns to rest on Loki.

Lokis lids are shut. He should be expecting that it's his turn to speak now. Of course it is. But somehow Loki's _just not there._

„Loki“, falls the word. A black stone thrown into a lake that seemed almost quiet only moments ago. Loki feels attacked by foreign claws drawn through his limbs. Eyes flipping open he panics back into reality.

„What happened after you and Sif left Vanaheim?“

His voice is gone again. There should be something, there should be any easy verbal way out of this situation, something like _I don't see how this is such a cause for trouble - I am no child and go wherever and whenever I want to – and I would have come back soon._ But that won't help him now. Nothing would help him now.

„Loki?“

He lets out a questioning whimper.

„Did you feel called back to these woods? An urge to return to the stag? Did it call you?“

„I don't … know“, he tries. Odin takes a careful breath.

„But the library, what happened there? Do you know that?“

Loki gulps, eyes staring like dead, scared to death as he is by that nothing hollowing out his mind. There's nothing he could say. Never before has there been NOTHING on his tongue. He glimpses Frigga hide her lips with one hand.

„Loki? Have you been in Vanaheim all along these last two days?“

„Wha- no … ?“

„Then where have you been? Do you remember, my son?“

„I was“, his voice louder now Loki frowns and tries out any words but cannot make them fit his thoughts because there _are_ no thoughts, no sly ones to talk him out of this, „somewhere. I was somewhere. Cold“, the mountain, „distant“, Asgard through invisible eyes, „strange“, their bed, THEIR bed, „I don't know. I'm sorry, mother.“ A helpless glance up to her and tears blur his sight.

And sometimes things all at once really take unexpectedly fast roads.

Odinfather lugubriously decides to hand out a punishment: The coronation of Thor is to be canceled and pushed forward for an indefinite time; not only the king but also his queen must be ready and wise enough to rule. Lady Sif is to lay down weapons and armor for an indefinite time; until she learns that glory must not lure one to risk someone elses life. Prince Loki is to be stripped off his magics for an indefinite time; so that the fey abstraction leaves his volatile mind.

Lokis lonely protest is but a childish and defiant sob in the wide and empty hall. A sob in vain against Odins well meant inexorability.

„It's for your best“, his mother says as she winds the thin and unimpressive but horribly violent silver bracelet around Lokis left wrist to bind his powers, taking away what always was the greatest part of him, leaving him with no defenses and worth even less than before. She could have cut off both his hands and feet, it wouldn't have felt so much different. His stolen magic leaves a hole to only widen this void already replacing most of him.

They insist on him seeing a healer. And suddenly Loki is all sober and alarmed again. Though it doesn't even matter. His parents _will_ know, in the end somehow they will. Why not through the healers? But, in a strange and ridiculous way it _very much_ matters to Loki if they find out in his pitiful presence or, Nine have mercy, after he's allowed to crawl into some deep, dark hole and hide from their faces the instant they crumble in shock.

No appeasing, however, no moaning, no cursing, no begging for being granted to keep himself at least _some_ dignity gets him out of it.

Odin and Frigga don't understand his antipathy. Much more it gets them deeply askance and even more unsettled. But at least Loki manages to push them far enough from himself this way so that they don't insist on literally holding his hands as he lays down on the healers cradle. Instead they retire, secretly hoping for him to eventually turn to them once he's ready, and leave him in the healing rooms with Thor instructed to have a pair of hawks eyes on him.

Loki, somehow too cruel to care, glimpses the hurt on his mothers face. And just too weary from all this past and present panic he finds himself able to bear it. It could be worse. They could both be much more disappointed.

 _It WILL be worse,_ he reminds himself. _They'll execute me. They'll have to. Once Asgard knows the people will not be denied my death._

It doesn't scare him as his vision fades some heartbeats long.

The healers scan his body with their vibrancies and crystals and cubes and lights – he should have fought them but, no, really he couldn't have – and they scan _all_ of him. And they heal all of him. But the fact that they do so silently unaffected and without making faces doesn't comfort him at all.

_It's out._

It's out that somehow, somewhen, something tore prince Lokis backside open like an unripe fruit. And that somehow, somewhen, something chewed his knob like a hungry dog chews a bone.

This is when Loki plainly accepts the world as his enemy, silent tears running down his temples and into his hair. Thor stands guilty in the doorway and looks down to his feet.

_It's out._

But his foolish heart, Loki must come to discover, just won't let him give it all up that soon, although beating faster and ready for battle once more cannot be anything but in vain.

 _They don't know what Fandral knows._ Maybe it's not yet too late. Gods, he knows he'll hate himself later for hoping at all. But maybe it's not yet too late.

Once Loki's allowed to stand up the brothers rush down the hallways; Loki stalks ahead in barely hidden rage, rage that surprised even himself when it suddenly filled him with a strong new living will. Ignoring Thor at his heels he runs his fingers through his hair over and over again, eyes darting into every direction, shooting everyone a glare of concentrated poison who dares to stare at him.

He might have lost his magics (what makes him feel stripped of gear and clothes and skin) and he might have lost his pride (and soon everyone will point at his back with their fingers and laugh and gasp if they're not already doing) but he didn't lose his life yet. NOT yet. At least his ridiculously weak body, without magics feeling no more but a _mortals_ or, fitting even better, an _ants_ one, just gained back its pathetic maximum of health … and he has this _rage_ keeping his limbs in motion. Oh yes, Loki made up his mind; he is officially at war. And especially with ONE.

„Brother“, Thor charily tries as they pass Lokis chambers by. But Loki storms on without mercy. „Brother, wait a moment.“

Loki only speeds up his pace. The deep sigh from behind alarms him but he already knows he cannot stop Thor from overhauling him, from blocking his way with this all too broad chest, from laying both his palms onto his twitching shoulders with warm but rigid weight, forcing his body to stand.

„Loki. Wait a moment.“

Loki snarls, his cutty eyes already wandering somewhere else again.

„So, WHAT are you looking for? You really, really need to rest now. Come, please, just - what – Loki, look at me!“

„FANDRAL“, he spits, locking his alert eyes so abruptly with Thors it makes the Thunderer flinch. „Get me Fandral into my chambers. If you do I'll wait for you there.“ And as Loki watches his brother gulp uneasily he knows that he knows of what urgent background his command is. Taking a sneaky step backwards and out of Thors grip Loki grins in bitter triumph.

„ … good“, Thor says. But it shows that he doesn't like the thought of leaving Loki alone. It's just that Fandral could be anywhere now. And he doesn't want Loki to run down the whole palace with him, probably collapsing in the end, in spite of the healers efforts still delicately disordered in a most apparently touchy way – both physically and mentally.

„But you promise not to disappear - promise not to do this to me again!“ Thors face is grave like the gravest childs face. Almost cute in his attempt to extort obedience from Lokis guilty conscience, to be honest. But Loki doesn't have a sense for tenderness now. Impatiently he rattles with the silver round his wrist, making any verbal reply needless.

_Disappear – with what?_

„But … you also won't jump out of your window. Promise to. Loki, I mean it, I KILL you if you jump out of your window!“

 _Yes, try and kill a corpse, doofus._ But the hurt in Thors eyes, no matter how short tempered Loki might just be, is too tragic and too real. Loki gulps. Gulps down all sentiments.

Pointing to his head he says: „Still that slow up here, hu? I don't promise anything to you, but be assured that I do not intent to die before I get the chance to rip Fandrals tongue out. No go already. And bring something to eat, I'm starving.“

Suddenly Thors eyes are wide again: „ … you haven't eaten since - ?“

„GO!“

And then Thor's off on loud large feet like a good dog retrieving what he's told to.

„Don't forget FANDRAL“, Loki shouts.

„WON'T“, echoes the answer from around the corner. And Loki sighs, knees suddenly trembling in exhaustion again. As if his every single step he raced today darted right back into his limbs.

Only moments later Loki sits slumped into his armchair. Waiting. Shivering with an unnatural chill – it isn't cold in his rooms, yet there his teeth chatter and goosebumps crawl out of his skin. Head aching badly now and only just forcing himself to stay awake Loki feels it was a grave mistake to let Thor run for his idiot friend alone. Seating his body to rest let Lokis adrenaline fall rapidly. He should have kept running. He shouldn't have sat down. It's only moments later but the wait already KILLS him.

Then there's a knock. Loki sits up. But Thor wouldn't knock, would he? He'll probably break the door down once he's back, all eagerness to fulfill his holy task. Loki frowns. But he slaps himself on both his cheeks to come back to the living once more, only a heartbeat long fearing he won't be able to stand up – but he's stronger that he thinks.

He opens the door to Sif. An utmost serious looking Lady Sif wearing a dress like all these ordinary maidens shrieking so loud and so high as to deafen their heroes ears whenever danger reaches out. Utterly unexpected and ridiculous and by no means fitting into the situations as she is Loki can't help but burst out into hoarse guffaws. Not that he's any kind of amused.

She sighs, anger flushing her face. Taking a deep breath she says: „Fine, I possibly deserve that ...“

Loki doesn't even listen. Laughing streams of tears now the visions of all he witnessed her doing the last days flood his sight and ears and throws him into flashbacks of consternation, gloating, burning jealousy and hate, a tiny piece of empathy and the suddenly too strong urge to vomit.

_'Our bed.'_

Well, almost too strong. He manages to keep it in. But not his laughter.

„Loki-“

Now he finds his voice and his words in the back of his throat, all he thought lost when he knelt before his father.

„No, Sif! Spare us, please“, he giggles, „I don't have the nerve for any useless, ridiculous, pathetic and not even honest words now – to be precise I might only have ONE nerve left after all, and this one I need for something WAY more important than your awkward try to wash your honor clean from whatever gnaws your concience.“ He nearly chokes and shoos her off like a biddy before wiping happy tears from his face although he isn't happy and way too tensed to be sad. Breathing, letting his laughter ebb away in chuckles, Loki manages to get himself together again.

Nose up high she glares at him, snapping: „So … are you done?“ Seems like she really still expects him to listen to whatever bullshit she wants to annoy him with.

Plain faced he grins at her in an intensity that must be making her secretly cringe: „Greet the ginger guard from me.“

He doesn't get her reaction – and really, though any other time he would have LOVED to taste it's flavors out to the last drop the missed opportunity doesn't even matter now. As he slams the door shut again the smile abruptly falls out of his face. Confused he tries out breathing. _So_. At least Sif wasn't just a bare waste of energy after all. Wide awake, heart pounding like a monstrous drum, vision sharpening with every beat Loki isn't cold anymore. Instead he's sweating now. But that's better. Isn't it? Somehow he doesn't feel his legs. But they keep standing and pacing for him nonetheless.

When Thor is back he brings a plate stuffed high with anything meat that must have been able to fly around Asgards roofs once it was alive. At his heels stalks Fandral in, awkwardly knitting his brows and carefully closing the door. Lokis eyes directly drill themselves into Thors bearded companion. They're needles biting into their victims flesh. Fandral mutters some _hello_ under his breath.

Now that the gossip dong stands here in person suddenly he doesn't seem half as dangerous as only moments ago. There is a realistic chance he hasn't spread the deathly word yet. And if he did – Loki will see to his suffering. He just doesn't yet know _how_. But he will. A grin wants to spread itself open in his cheeks as he feels his mind fill up with his old self again, cunning, cutting. Winning.

_Oh yes._

One heartbeat he's distracted, though – and he wants to curse Thor for it – by the sound of porcelain hitting the table. Lokis eyes glance over to what his brother brought with him at all. He didn't really look until now. And as suddenly the goddamned heavenly scent of fried chicken tickles his nostrils with cruel deliciousness Loki almost whines, gulping hard at the sudden water teasing his hungry mouth. He straightens his back and catches his breath to stop his stomach from rioting out loud.

But even before he gets angry at how his just regained concentration scattered into a thousand shards due to _silly food_ his eyes catch sight of EXACTLY what he needs now. Thor brought fork and knife. A sharp knife. Not too bulky. But impressive nonetheless.

Loki grins and slowly stalks towards the table.

„You know why you're here“, he addresses Fandral.

„Ahh … quite so I guessssss“

„Have you told anyone?“

„No! Behold, NO! I know I'm not the most trusted with secrets, but - !“

And Loki takes the knife, rasping it with an aggressive speed across the table as he does. Leaving a deep mark in the wood. Thor sucks in breath, his chest tensing in alarm. Fandral, too, senses the rapidly changing atmosphere.

„Oh … okay“, he nervously starts, „no offense, Lokes, but this is ridiculous. No need to threaten anyone. Not that you'd stand a chance against me, but - “

Chuckling Loki shoots him a dangerously adorable glance. „I know“, he says. And lifts the knife to his own throat.

Fandral lets out a startled sound and backs one pace off, palms held open in front of his chest. And Thor freezes where he stands, losing an utterly terrified gasp.

„But this rather frightens you. Doesn't it?“

Thor whines again.

„See, Fandral. I just need to make one thing clear: If any of what you came to know lately ever leaves your mouth …“, and at this he playfully slides the glinting blade across his skin like stroking himself with a feather. A tiny drop of deep red blubs out an invisible and tiny cut. Fandral gulps. And gets it.

„Sure, I -“

„Thor would be so mad with grief … if I came to harm. Wouldn't you, brother?“ Loki doesn't once release Fandral from his glare.

Thors face is like cut out of hardest wood as he presses out: „Loki, I DARE you!“

„See his temper“, he chuckles again, a lovely smile adorning his face, „He'd need someone to beat his wrath into. He always needs an outlet.“

„Oh. Oh-kay“, Fandral pants and tears his hair, sweat forming on his forehead, „Fine! I HIGHLY promise to never talk about it – no, to FORGET it, to NEVER HAVE SEEN it! Just – Norns, get that THING from your throat! No one needs to die here. And no one needs to be an outlet. My mouth is sealed. Forever!“

Loki brews him with a glare. Testing. Fastening his threat.

„Nine! I promise, I PROMISE!“

One, two, three heartbeats. And Loki sighs. „Alright. I believe you.“ He lets his arm cozily slump to his side. But he doesn't lay the knife down yet. The room relaxes in such violence it's like the air was firm enough with tension to touch, to keep their three bodies in place, and now it melts away around them. Fandral goes pathetically to his knees and Thor stamps towards Loki in serious distress.

„GIVE that knife to me“, he groans as he tries to unwind the nasty weapon from his brothers hand. But Loki's too fast and far too agile for his perhaps passionate but plump attempts. With a swirls of his wrist he escapes Thors paws and brings the metal right back to his throat, a bitter smile widening on his face. Throwing his hands up into the air Thor gives it up and takes a step back again. „Will you PLEASE stop that, brother!“

„Not now that I know you care“, Loki purrs. But then his grin slowly falls out his face and makes silent place for something weary. Turning around once more to face Fandral he points at the warrior with the blades evil tip: „Don't forget what I said.“

Standing up on shaky legs Fandral fervently shakes his head: „Never.“ And then, groaning, he already wants to just get his ass out here and leave, get out this insane room at once. But, laying his hand onto the door latch, that same old leer steals itself under his beard again. And he turns around one final time.

„Just … out of pure curiosity“, Fandral starts sneakily, slightly blushing in his smile, „all along, I mean, _Blondie_ , ahem, no offense, Thor, but that was _you_?“

No tongue says a word. But eyes tell stories. Fandral gulps and nervously rubs his cheeks.

„And the one working Lokes when I sat and watched the windows … for hours … ?“

Loki ends up in a hysterical cough and Thors face is a tomato.

„Oh, I mean, wow. Congratulations. For the, ahem … outstanding patience.“

And as Thor groans in shame Loki can't help but giggle until big, round tears roll down his pink blushed cheeks. He needs to curl around his cramping belly for a good degree.

„LO - KI“, Thor hisses out. But Loki only replies in even harder laughter, louder, fuller and finally open mouthed. Voice hoarse and breathless he squeals: „Sorry ... but you SO deserve that, brother!“

A while they remain like this, Thor glowing in shame, Loki coughing his lungs out and Fandral grinning half awkwardly, half amazed from one brother to the other. Just as Loki breathes himself back together, or at least tries to, and Thors face almost resembles a normal skin color again, Fan promises one last time: „So, dudes, my mouth is sealed. Really.“

And then he bows and takes his leave.

Thor closes the door behind Fandral with a hanging head and a burning neck. And Loki instantly throws himself at the food damping on the plate, all else around forgotten at once. Only then he finally lets the knife clatter back onto the table. Like a wild beast he snaps for the first chicken in reach. With bare teeth and fingers he greeds the hot, delicious, spicy meat from the bones and swallows with unstoppable appetite, just barely chewing, more and more and over-more, letting out a groan at how _hungry_ he suddenly is. Some bites are even large enough to make him use his fingers to stuff them down.

He doesn't get further than one bird, though. The realization of having survived, having REALLY survived, hits him out of nowhere and calms him so rapidly down as to end in deep exhaustion. Panting Loki closes his eyes. Only just he shoves one last bit of chicken into his mouth, swallows his trembling fingers in to their middle phalanx and gulps. The bones flop out of his hand as he no longer cares to cling to them, completely distraught now. Three nails still digging into his tongue he sucks the meat juice from his own skin. Blind like this he pants through his nose, all air sucked in a sigh, all breaths shot out a moan. And he slightly stumbles forward, dizzy now, just a little dizzy, catching the edge of the table with his free hand for support. And then he slowly lets his fingers slip out his lips with a slick noise.

He survived.

Loki opens his eyes. And there's Thor. The worst is done. Loki's breathing and won't stop that soon. Whatever's yet to come, humiliations, punishments, nothing will cost him his life now. They don't kill people for marks of abuse on their bodies. They don't kill people for gay rumors. They don't kill princes for disappearing and showing up again, for maybe ruining some spells, for demolishing a library. And Thor's here with him and loves him. _Loves_ him.

Why can't this just feel good?

Loki yearned for this ever since they did what they do. Secretly. Desperately. But now that it's real it's awkward. _Really_ awkward. Not to mention how clearly Loki suddenly feels his body stick and smell from three days old sweat, Nine, he needs a bath IMMEDIATELY. His hair's an oily bird nest on his head. And Thor just stares. Something's so wrong with that look in his eyes.

„Suddenly I'm not that sexy anymore, hm?“ Loki grins, but the sarcasm doesn't really want to sparkle from his tongue. So he hurries to glance away, idly wiping the corners of his mouth clean from chicken fat, and tries not to let his shame show off too easily.

Instead of responding anything Thor storms to grab for the knife lying somewhat off the plate and hurls it out the window so abruptly and with such a strength it makes the air fizzle and Loki shrink. Thor tramples around the room and gathers all objects looking sharp and dangerous to send them off the same fateful way down the outer palace wall with too horrid anger carved into his face. Lokis heart skips a beat at the brutality all at once taking over his terribly strong and powerful brother. Too well now Loki feels the weight of the bracelet binding his powers to nothing but a lack leaving him at the Norns mercy all vulnerable and without chance to defend himself or flee at least. Alarm shrieks through his veins as black bellied rainclouds conquer the skies with chasing bolts and thunderclaps. Darkness and cold steal their ways into the room.

Thors chest heaves like a machine once he stands. He lets out a shaky groan, his whole frame close to bursting into a thousand lightnings. And then with a really, really frightening glare he's at Loki like never before. Loki almost laughs at the absurd speed he's thrown down into his sheets at the far side of his chamber with. But he can't, no air to laugh stays in his lungs once Thors weight mills him into the mattress.

„This is an ugly, ugly game you're playing, brother“, Thor grunts into Lokis neck. Then he heaves his body up to his elbows and seats himself astraddle on his captives waist like a rock.

Before he knows what's going on – and why – Loki sees his own scrawny arms fight the ferocious bull towering above him. But Thor only catches both his wrists and pins them down with force, eyes glaring in the hottest of fires – blue fire. Gritting his teeth he grimaces, a vein pumping dangerously out his temple. Lokis heart squirms up his throat. That grip on his wrists is firm enough to terrify. As is that ripe bulge between Thors muscular thighs digging into Lokis belly like an iron fist, throbbing more from outrage than anything else, it seems.

„WHY“, Thor booms, „CAN'T YOU JUST STAY ALIVE?“

At this, against his panics better knowledge, Loki scoffs, utmost baffled and huffy all the same: „Wha – but that's what I just DID!“ It's of no use, though. A flash splits up the skies and rain beats down onto the roofs of Asgard. Thor's deaf and blind in his rage.

„You want me to love you - and I don't – and I'm going CRAZY thinking you killed yourself! And you want me to love you - and I DO – and you drive me MAD with -“ Thor chokes, coughs out a sob.

„I HAD to handle Fandral this way, you freaking shmoe! All I did was _ensuring_ my survival!“

„SHUT your false mouth, LIAR! Two times I almost saw you die today, TWO TIMES! But you'll see, I'll give you REASONS“, he more threatens that promises this as his angry paws rush to rip open Lokis tunic, „REASONS to LIVE!“

Loki gasps, a shock of horrid abasement clutching strings of ice into a nest all through his guts. Thor rips Lokis shoulders free from cloth, forces his wrists back over his head, exposing his armpits to both of them.

And Loki smells himself – sharp sweat nonstop cooled down and heated up again these past days between ferociously being taken by Thor on the mountain, shivering through the grim night on the throne and eventually running after the golden stag and for dear life itself. Gods, he smells it all. All his failures.

_Hideous._

„Let go“, Loki demands. Thor snakes his strong neck down to lick his jawbone and take a deep, deep breath of him instead. And as he bucks his hips against Lokis tummy a new thunder accompanies the move with a growl high up in the clouds.

_No._

Lokis doesn't want Thor to want him like this. He doesn't want _himself_ like this. It's just offending. And least of all he wants to be coerced!

„Let GO“, Loki shouts and kicks with all his legs can give. But he doesn't get his heels on anything but air. A squall howls round the palace in a dark triumph.

„Not this time, brother...“

Loki wails, ugly memories pulling at his hair. A heartbeat long he's back up on the mountain.

Thor's at his earlobe now. Thor's _sucking_ his earlobe, sliding his tongue behind it, wetting the dip hidden there underneath. Soft but relentless lips claim Loki and will not accept any protest. There is that wicked, lazy hint of _this is only the beginning_ , stubbles, too close, far too pleasured smacks … and that damping flame of breath Thor's thrusting out his nostrils into Lokis hair. _Oh._

Lokis lids flutter. His spine yearns his chest up at the sudden sensation. And his bare skin brushes the rough fabric of Thors tunic, a cold metal button teasing, nettling Lokis nipple (the left one). Like a shrinking violet he feels this tiny touch curl in and out his every limb. Dizzy Loki gasps and shuts his eyes. But he's not enjoying this half as much as his body wants him to believe. That panic coiling up his stomach isn't there for nothing. He's helpless. Without his magics Loki's _helpless_ like never before.

Not that his spells were any other kind but healing and illusions. Not that any kind of illusion would have stopped Thor on the mountain.

 _I could have said no._ But could he really have? The ceiling starts spinning in pulses above Loki. And though it's not the mountain caves ceiling it's a _ceiling_ he's facing. That means he's just once more forced DOWN.

But Thor promised to never hurt him again, didn't he? He wouldn't … ? He won't, will he?

_Breathe. Just breathe. It's not like then. It's not-_

A lewdy moan hums in the cave of Thors mouth as he takes a new, even deeper breath in. The rain washes in a sudden wave down on the roof and halfway into the open window. Loki feels all too sick.

„Stop getting yourself horny with my odor, I stink like Hel!“

„You smell like _you_.“

„Oh, thanks. Really. THANK you. I'm so flattered.“

Thor chuckles. And in the distance rolls a thunder in reply. „I love _you_.“

Eyes wide Loki snorts out a pathetic sound, heart thrumming at how _much_ he's out of control of this. _Again_. He turns his face away, half unruliness, half panic, but only gives Thor more of his neck. And Thor doesn't miss the opportunity and just kisses like he did in Vanaheim, little sighs lolling like vibrancies out his lips. He grumbles as he's just above the little cut Loki sliced into his skin, murmuring: „But I hate you for _that_ “, and pressing the tip of his tongue against it Thor forces a hiss from Loki; plus a new wave of struggling to break free.

„Now let go of my wrists! I can't feel my fingers anymore.“ That's a lie, goes without saying.

„Mmmm-mmm“, Thor hums against his skin, „no tricks, brother“, each word followed by little nips, „not this time“, and Loki squirms again, „just calm down“, gulps again, „give it up“, whines again, “enjoy … “

Loki can't breathe. Thor's just so heavy on his stomach, squeezing his body flat like paper. And he's just too gently carnal as he gives Lokis larynx that _nibbling_. Gods, the weight on his torso starts to make Loki feel far too lightheaded. All his blood pumps down his body, surely meant to reach his feet for the great escape, never getting there, though, and instead ending struck in that vicious pulling between his thighs which calls all his inner fire to slowly, slowly crawl there.

Under other circumstances Loki would love this. And dangerously much he already does. But the matter of fact that he pretty much is a beyond filthy skunk right now ruins it for him. As does the distinct memory of things like these _going horribly wrong_. Instinctively he squints his buttocks.

And so Loki decides he's desperate enough to take a mouthful of Thors golden hair between his teeth and rip as hard as he possibly can.

Thor howls out and backs off, both his hands shooting up to his head. Lightnings flash. Loki spits out some loose hairs sticking to his tongue and lets out a rough, disgusted noise, eagerly pressing his arms to his sides again.

„LOKI! Must you be SUCH a beast?“

„You're FORCING me! And get off now“, Loki punches Thors chest without greater effect, „OFF I say!“

Thor bristles and groans at him: „FORCE you? You're starting THERE again? Loki, we've HAD that!“

„OFF!“

„NOT until you CALM DOWN, Nine and anything beyond! Not until you SEE that you CAN'T just do such things like JUMPING OFF CLIFFS AND CUTTING YOUR THROAT!“

„Fine! So what's the plan now? Fuck me sane?“

„Maybe LOVE you sane!“

 _Oh sweet_. Once more today Loki just can't but guffaw.

“RAPE me sane, you m-”

As Thor all berserk tries to silence him with a hard (slick, Nine, so _slick_ ) kiss Loki finds his nerves throb in a sudden wave of lust and passionately bites his brothers too delicious tongue.

„BEAST“, Thor shouts as he pulls away again.

„BLONDIE“, Loki spits right back. And leers heartily amused at how his brother gasps at this silly name. Welcome home, tomato-Thor.

„Oh, TAKE that back, Loki.“

„Take what back … _Blondie_?“

Nine, Thor bristles SO BAD. And blushes even more. Lokis giggles are painfully hoarse now. As a lightning flares closer than any other before he squeals at the slashing sound. But only to cackle even harder once its gone.

„What's so FUNNY?“

„Nohohohohothingmmmmmh-hhhhhh-hh-h-h!“

Thor roars. But, wringing his hands, he compels himself to breathe his useless wrath away. Or at least a little aloof; the tempest softens a bit and crawls to take some distance. Loki wheezes.

„Good. I ought to be gentle. But you seem to want it rough. Now tell me, brother, what is THAT?“ Thor reaches behind his back to squeeze Lokis by now very sensitive and very erect length through his trousers.

„That's my – OHOW“, Loki jerks up and throws himself back into his pillows with a yelp, seeing but yellow for an instant of pure electricity shooting up his spine, „you know _exactly_ what that is. No one knows better than you!“

„And why's it so eager and hard? Oh, right, because I'm FORCING you!“

„And why's YOURS?“ This is when Thor gets punched in the nuts. He almost takes it like a brave man, though, and winces only with the shortest of pules. Loki shoot out even new laughter, his throat starting to really feel abused.

„That's your fault alone”, Thor grumbles, “you nearly CAME with that chicken in your mouth … and didn't even care to hide it!“

„WHAT? I was famishing and tried not to faint!“

„Oh no, brother, you had these _almost-there_ sounds dripping from your lips, you wicked,“ gasping out loud Loki writhes as Thor gives him another squeeze, „dirty“, and a pump, „filthy“, and a pull …

 _Nine, Norns and oh-oh, OH!_ Lava melts Lokis bones at this treatment worth fainting for. But no one bests the god of mischief. Not like that.

Loki arches his spine and wills his mind to use his helpless panting for a pretty demonstration of pure mockery. „Ahhh … yyyyeeeees“, he moans and rolls his eyes, „Nine, DO me, _Blondie!_ Ah! If only FANDRAL could see you now, you and your _outstanding_ patience!“

And Thor groans again, instantly lets go and finally hides his face in his palms. Loki, oh really, just AGAIN can't keep his choking chuckles in, already shaking like in a bad chill. His chest is pink, heaving with his stuttering breaths. It's all spinning, all around and all inside, and pulsing.

Then Thor suddenly releases his weight from his stomach – and Loki catches his breath with a yelp of surprise - just to seat himself right back again, only that he's turned himself around, showing Loki his back.

He broods for a moment. Huffs and snorts.

“Are you sulking now?”

“Don't talk to me, you're mad.”

“And you're sulking.”

Thor sighs. And Loki rubs his arms, suddenly shivering in the cold penetrating the room through the open window. The thunder outside dissolved from angry powers roaring through the skies into a simple but heavy wash of rain. The light is very, very gray.

“Thor … ?”

He only scratches the back of his head.

“Thor?”

Still not a tiny reply. And no motion at all. Loki feels his old friend Panic break down all his doors again. The hysterical impulse to jerk his legs and knock a knee into Thors stubborn face cramps through his feet as he's staring at his brothers goddamned butt nearly crushing his chest. But Loki's just completely wobbly and weak now. And he doesn't even know what he's fighting anymore.

Thors whispers: “I don't know what to do with you.”

“Get off, for a start.”

“As if. Who knows what you'd do? You're mad!”

“I'd … ”, _probably have a bath._ But Loki doesn't bring himself to any piece of sarcasm anymore. That would afford just too much strength.

Then Thors fingers undo Lokis belt. His hands move quickly but with a touch of helplessness to them, a little restraint. He clearly can't think of what _else_ to do. It just suggests itself. What they do always helped him. Why shouldn't it help Loki now that he obviously explodes with maniac stress? Even if just the familiarity of it would calm him. So Thor peel his brothers nervously aching flesh out his trousers, curved up like an insane cry; _do it – but WOE betide you if you do!_ And Thor leans down with a frown all over his face.

Gasping hard Loki writhes in his sheets. Thors tongue, as it wraps round his tensed tip, is hot enough against the freezing air to send a pang dart down Lokis shaft. He bucks. And as he's swallowed up to his lowermost base the first word ringing through his heavy mind is _scalding_. But his body won't wince from what it's yet confusing with pain. It's a touch in the end and _right there,_ Loki finds himself all at once far enough to take whatever's touching him right where his every nerve end must have crawled and hardened into a firm knot as Thor had him so viciously fist caught. _Scalding._ Loki yelps and rolls his eyes away. _SCALDING pain._ But soon enough Thor melts around him to a sweeter thing, leaving Loki lose a corybantic moan with every suck. And distantly Loki lies baffled at how suddenly he needs so _much_ of this.

Thor's steady at him. And controlled. He doesn't seem to even think of touching himself through this. Instead he keeps Lokis frantic hips in place beneath him, once and again even having some troubles to hold down their thrusts. Tears wet Lokis burning eyes now, but his sobs slick out his throat in terribly desperate cries for a pleasure somehow abasing him. It's not even - it's just … he doesn't know. Firm gulps shock him through it – but Thor works him like he's dead meat. No passion's there. No mutual desire. This is not meant for lust, it is a necessary course of action not to be questioned and even less to be declined. A therapy. As if to suck it all from Loki, all that plagues him, makes him _mad_ , like one sucks the poison out a vipers bite.

Groaning wild at this emetic realization – and Thors sudden decision to make more use of his grinders, cautiously but, _OH Nine_ , forthright, far too forthright – Loki grits his teeth and sends a vengeful, violent thrust up his brothers throat. To his own harm, though, as Thor doesn't choke but he himself ends in a pulsing tremor ripping up his spine at the brute friction.

Thor doesn't show mercy on him. However mercy would look like now, Loki doesn't even know, but Thor stays forcing in his everlasting and relentless rhythm. Loki can't. He can't fight it. And he wants to just finally _lose_ it all. He should have been there like three times now, but – and it's not even Thor, it's Loki himself – it just _won't_ come. And there's that unbearably growing pressure almost tearing him open. But Loki, no matter how MUCH he needs to, can't let go. Wheezing hard with every pant his fingers claw into Thors buttocks for support.

He couldn't just let go when he waited for Thor to return with Fandral, no, he couldn't let it go when he ran with the stag, when he secretly watched Thor mount Sif in _their bed_ , when this ORF stubbornly tantalized his spot with Cowards Brew and, no, Loki couldn't let it go when he suffered through the night _before_ that, when he tried to keep it in as he refused to come in front of Sif, ALL these weeks he kept away from Thor, he couldn't let the tension go, the alert, the frustration, all this time, and, and … and ...

But it's over. It's all over now.

One final shudder of ferocious want cramps his trembling torso up as far as Thors seat on him allows. And Lokis teeth hurt him SO BAD then, and his fingers nearly break as they rip at Thors trousers, rip them down his muscular buttocks. Lokis face pushes itself against the just exposed skin – and a breathless yelp forces his yaw apart – and he bites down, not caring if he hurts or not, that's not the point, just to BITE something, anything, muffling his final groan. And Loki lets it go. When he comes he's deaf for a while.

 

 


	25. T(h)rusting is a tricky thing

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> THOR-POV-CRISIS GHAAAAAAHHHHH!!!!!
> 
> I don't quite know, this chapter ended up writing itself and seems to be purely written in the aspect of getting VIOLENTLY VISUAL. I cannot deny the size kink in this fic any longer. This is such oral smut, oh gawwwd ......... ; . ;  
> I go finally add the tag PORN and then disappear hopelessly embarassed in a dark, dark corner.
> 
> Your Bee

 

 

Okay. So that bite hit poor Thor completely unexpected. Almost it made him jump off the bed. Almost it made him choke finishing Loki. But the brave warrior he is he managed to pull through it before crawling off his brother, wiping his mouth clean and leaving but a desperately panting bundle of limbs on the sheets behind.

Slowly he paces the room now, rubs his backside through his trousers (pulled back up where they belong) and feels his right leg limp whenever it moves thoughtless enough to make his buttock roar out in another wave of pain. It didn't even bleed, but Norns, he already feels the amount of purple gather under his skin. Now let Sif see this! He'll absolutely have his struggles explaining this mark to her.

Not to mention Thor didn't quite finish _himself_ yet. And his every step harshly brushing his swollen tip against its wide stretched fabric cage Thor sends himself hot blushes up into his cheeks. Angry blushes. Dizzy blushes. Greedy, angry, dizzy blushes making it extremely hard to breathe.

_Hard. Yes._

Scowling he licks his lips, finds some left drops of Loki there in the corners of his mouth. A glare shot at his brother tells Thor the biting beast somehow sat up by now and closed his belt again, that instant nearly throwing himself back into his tunic, panting still.

„You're not the thankful kind, brother“, Thor grumbles. Loki takes a deep breath and frees it in a tired sigh. Cocking his brows and clicking his tongue he merely glances at Thor out of puffy eyes: „ _Thank_ you.“

That cynicism really has a bitter taste to it. Deeply upset Thor feels his chest tighten, ribs turning iron cold and heavy. He just wanted to help, didn't he? But always again Loki makes him feel like doing everything possible just plainly wrong. What was is _this_ time? Loki obviously needed it! Nearly took Thors throat instead of being taken, even held down and weak as he was, so ferocious burned his want! Thor gave him what he needed, selfishly tried his best to help him let out that terrible stress driving him hopping mad, though Thor really yearned for some more … shared pleasure. And now _that_.

But though he sullenly bristles on the inside Thor doesn't dare to be outright angry with Loki. There are these shocks still deep and violent in all his bones. The fight, the nightmare ... then the vicious chasm in Vanaheim … and the knife … but then again, shouldn't exactly these be reasons enough to justify this anger coiling up his chest?

Didn't he tell Loki he loves him? Didn't Loki, in his strange ways, confess he loves him, too? Why must they still keep pushing each others away? Everything's so confusing now since things went wrong and right and wrong again. If only this wall between them would have crumbled down completely in Vanaheim! Almost it did. Almost. But it seems even higher now.

Suddenly all Thors anger turns into a heavy ball of regret sinking down his belly. If only Fandral didn't ruin their conciliation! If only – oh if only things went different.

Loki takes a shaky, sighing breath and closes his eyes, somehow seeming defeated and too tired to act like being not. As if he heard Thors painful thoughts and found himself unable to brush them away, to answer their painful questions.

He doesn't really understand why, but all at once Thor's ashamed of what's highly visible sticking out from his lap, bobbing with too delicious shudders as he realizes he's _staring_ at his brother sitting on the bed, staring at his heavy, sweaty eyelids, rosy cheeks, red lips, redder than they usually are so shortly _after_ … suddenly Thor's ashamed of his brazen erection shamelessly asking for something, _anything_ more of what's already over. Thor's not even naked, Loki not even looking. But the dim idea of his lust being just completely mistimed makes him face the wall and hide his front. Like a too big child the Thunderer pulls his muscular shoulders up and rounds his bully neck a good bit down between them, eyes looking at his fingers nervously scratching at each others nails. What with that viciously tickling prick now? It's there and _too much_ there, too late to turn it off by thinking of a naked Volstagg. What now, touch it? Just get it done? He's done it before. In front of Loki. And many, many times.

Thor gulps. No, not today. Somehow he can't. Helplessly staring past his fingers now, examining this amount of flesh pumping between his thighs he literally feels his brain go numb and just stop thinking, for thinking out a solution to this, being terribly hard, no, breath cutting hard, not wanting to be hard, not knowing how to be not, not wanting to touch, not … no, really. Thor stands facing the wall, fingers awkwardly fingering fingers, an impossible size of massive lust demanding undeserved attention, and his brain just won't THINK anymore.

Loki's beautiful behind him, so much Thor knows, beautifully shuddering in the warmth of his aftermath. And Thor's ashamed of finding this thought the last one remaining in his mind. It's just the _least_ important now. Important is that Loki nearly killed himself two times in only one day. And that, no matter how the situation's turned, in the end it's always Thor to blame.

He simply doesn't have the right to allow his body such temptations now. Yet it's too late and of no use to hide it. He should just go for it, quickly, and not enjoy himself too much.

But then Loki doesn't leave Thor but a second to, well, concentrate, as he abruptly stands up to stagger somewhat wobbly towards his bathrooms door. Thor hurries to crane his neck as he hears the sudden movement from behind.

„Where are you going?“

„Have a bath.“

„What - now?“ Thor frowns. „Can't that WAIT“, he groans out and tramples after his brother on feet feeling even plumper with that frustrated thing piercing all firm flesh from his crotch. Grabbing Lokis shoulder he makes him stop just in front of the closed door leading to the private bath. „Gods, you REALLY can't just get some sleep unless I knock you out, can you?“

Loki turns to face him with that cursed look of innocence on his face he knows to play out oh too well – that and this gorgeous leftover heat making his eyes and skin glow even now. Thor gulps. Somehow his ears are burning.

„You hoped to knock me out, then?“

„Hu?“

Loki leers, loses a chuckle and adds: „You tried to suck me to sleep?“

Good. Yes. Thors ears are REALLY burning. For, kind of, he actually _did_ try to suck Loki to sleep. What sounds hilarious, though, spoken out loud. And completely daft. There's no answer to this, so Thor just grumbles something wordless to the ground.

„Thor“, Loki starts again, „even if Ragnarok breaks loose for it, I will not be denied a bath now.“

But Thor, though hit badly by awkwardness, tightens his grip on Lokis shoulder: „And I won't be just standing there and watch you drive yourself to a total collapse! You need your rest urgently! After all that happened - !“

All at once Lokis mask falls down and with sudden anger in his eyes he shoves Thors heavy hand away, spitting: „What I really NEED is to wash ALL that happened OFF of me!“

And Thor jerks as he sees Loki shaking. They stare into each others eyes; Loki wins it.

„Yes … good“, Thor whispers, remorse and understanding pulling at his unwilling face, „you're right. I'm sorry.“ _Just wash me off of you._

„Thank you“, Loki replies. But the cynicism from before somewhat cooled away by now.

He turns to enter his private bath and of course Thor follows like a faithful dog. As Loki wants to close the door he nearly bumps into Thors chest, only so slightly brushing his thigh against Thors, well, almost drooling prick. Thor sucks in breath, hissing at the sudden pulse spreading his every vein. Loki cocks his eyebrows. And Thor, reminded of his aching need, just feels the guilty shame again.

Didn't Loki notice before? He doesn't even glance down, though. Doesn't he care? Inside Thor writhes. Somehow he childishly hopes Loki didn't notice _at all_. He barely touched it, didn't he? And he didn't once glance down since Thor stood up from his chest. Thor gulps, cheeks blushing even pinker now. Nine, Lokis lips are really red.

„Mh, so, what are you doing? You can't join in, my tub won't take us both.“

„What?“

„Wait outside!“ Loki shoos him away like a pet. It's just that Thor won't move.

„And leave you … alone?“

„Yes, quite so.“

Thor frowns. Broods. Gasps. „Oh“, he exclaims, but suddenly it's just all there again, Loki jumping off cliffs, Loki cutting his throat, Loki slipping out on the bathroom floor and breaking his neck … „No, brother. It's too dangerous.“

„Wha- Thor, this is ridiculous! OUT now!“

„No.“

„Just GET out, I say.”

„NO!“ And Thor, suddenly all his strength again, slams the door shut behind his back, turns the key and takes it. „Have your bath if you must, but don't think me THAT stupid! You'd probably find it funny to smash your face into the mirror once I'm out!“

Loki stands baffled, chin dropped down. Wringing his hands he seems at a complete loss of words, to both Thors surprise and amusement. Anyhow, Loki seems helplessly at Thors mercy with that silver bracelet binding his magics. Why didn't he realize this earlier?

„I … HATE you“, Loki chokes out as a triumphant smile widens on Thors face.

„You said that before.“

„Fine!“

And this is, for a while, the last word spoken. Sort of satisfied with himself Thor finds a place to sit – a little black cabinet opposite from Lokis slim but impressive marble tub – and a position, cross legged, to ease and almost hide this dull demand cast in firm muscle mass between his thighs. Folding his hands in his lap to conceal even the last bulge popping through Thor sighs comfortably and sways in the dim warmth slowly filling the room; Loki's letting water in through the fine golden pipes of Asgards aqueduct and heats it up with sinking the glowing vermilion crystal into the swash (because they have things like these in Asgard because they're totally awesome). Adding some liquid soap from a silver bowl works sheer bubble wonders in the bathtub.

Thor takes a calm, deep breath and feels his body relax as he watches his brother putter around. He's only distantly throbbing now, patiently waiting. He knows like this he'll totally be able to abstain from finishing until Loki's at last in bed and fast asleep. And after melting away in the hot water he'll absolutely fall into his sheets like a child, towel still on his head. Thor would finish then, he wouldn't bother Loki with his primitive desires, utterly respectful and noble towards his yet so bewildered brother. Oh yes, Thor's never felt that noble before!

It's just when Loki starts to pull at his tunic buttons, preparing to disrobe, that he shoots Thor a sudden glare: „You're staring. Count your toes, I don't know. But stop staring.“

Thor frowns, chuckling in disbelief. „What? You're not being serious, are you?“

„Certainly I am!“

„I've had more of you than a mere look at your skin!“

„That is“, Loki makes a face, „something else.“ Faking up disgust he hides … what; bashfulness? Thors finds his jaw drop, leaving him marvel open mouthed like a five years old. That's not really happening, is it? Loki's not really, not after ALL, too shy to get naked with Thors eyes on him?

„You must be kidding me.“

„I'm not! But you're being rude, so just - !“

„Why?“

„What?“

„You think you're ugly?“

There was something like this when they had their glorious talk, wasn't there? _You could have any maiden in Asgard if only you wanted to! – Oh, really? Could I?_ And there's that towel hung over the whole-body mirror there, not like accidentally but rather to hide its complete surface.

Loki cocks his eyebrows, taken completely off guard, and gulps in a way to just break Thors heart into thousands of tiny shards.

„You're not ugly, Loki.“

Only after blinking his confusion away Loki shakes his head and adds: „Good, so now you're being silly, I just-“ He gets promptly interrupted, though.

„You're beautiful“, Thor smiles, the sun personified. He doesn't even feel strange confessing what beauty he finds in his brothers flesh and bones and feels rather lightheaded and surprised at how easily this slipped out his mouth. He hasn't ever really thought about it before (because Thor rarely thinks about his feelings), but now it's out it's just like the most ordinary thing in his entire life. _Beautiful_.

„Yes, sure“, Loki mocks, „and now be good enough to grant me some privacy, please.“

„No.“ Now Thor's getting stubborn.

„Wha-“

„I'm not gonna look away!“

„But-“

„NO! You CAN'T mean that!“

Thor doesn't miss the glance Loki shoots the locked door. He's probably considering his chances to take his wish for having a bath back again and just walk out this room, this situation, like none of the above has eve been said. Somehow this really hurts Thors feelings. It's just _him_ , isn't it? Why make such a show of it? It's not like Thor's a stranger!

„I changed my mind“, Loki says, „unlock the door.“

„Oh, don't be so. The water's cooling.“

„I don't necessarily-“

„Come on! Just get your ass into that tub already!“

Loki hisses something and, all froward, folds his arms. But in the end he doesn't have that much of a choice. Angrily pulling the tunic over his head he snarls: „Curse you!“

And Thor struggles to hide an utmost eased smile wanting to spring open in his face – not that he's finding joy in Lokis misfortune, it's just that the sight of his skinny body  _without any bruises or scars_ , thanks to the royal healers, is such a beauteous thing to the Thunderers eyes.

„There's nothing to hide,“ Thor breathes as Loki fretfully fumbles at his belt, „really.“

„I bet that's easily said when you're not the one about to strip blank“, Loki snaps, dragging his trousers abruptly down to his ankles, trying so hard to be quick as to stumble and almost fall over.

 _Oh!_ Thors eyes widen, both in alarm of Loki slipping out on the bathroom floor and – Nine, he stands again – and of his own hips involuntarily giving out a craving thrust at the sudden display of so much more skin. _Oh._ But he forces the wild impulse down again. Taking a steady breath Thor tries to focus on Lokis face instead of his wiry (but too alluring) limbs. Loki makes such an unhappy face as he regains his balance and – pants down - stands completely naked there.

Thor sighs. „Calm down. I've seen it all before.“ And yes, he did. But, and Loki had a point in here, that _was_ different. Never so clear. Diffuse, to say so. Never so … real. Thor gulps down fire as he dares to let his eyes wander back down from Lokis face again, chary looks caressing all these delicate lines and forms ... „Calm down“, he slurs. Not sure if to his brother or himself.

„We were both … mh“, Loki tries to protest and explain himself one last time as he's bending down for his ankles again, „ … and you didn't _stare_.“

A silent moment follows this. A moment of Loki impatiently pulling his left foot out his pant leg and Thor not daring to blink in fear of missing any of this. He drinks it all in with his eyes. And only in the back of his mind he's lazily trying to decode his brothers last cut off words, their meaning a sheer riddle to him while he's so occupied in much better things to fill his mind with.

_We both … ? … were both … both what? …_

He doesn't find the answer (and doesn't really care). Instead he tries to come up with something fitting the colours, every shade, of Lokis skin. It's not just milk. Not only cream. A little dew, a little dawn and ...

Thor bites his lip and feels his cheeks aflame as he realizes all these fool-in-love thoughts weighing his royal pride down. But he smiles.

Loki groans in frustration as his efforts to finally end this being shown off and hurry to hide in the bathtub take him way longer than they should. But this is when Thor's completely out of a sudden got an idea which he thinks absolutely great: They were both _naked!_ On the mountain they were … and the morning after, at least kind of, and before things went wrong Loki liked being naked with Thor, didn't he?

„So if I were naked, too, you'd be comfortable?“

A heartbeat's never been that long.

„ ... what?!“

„Yes! Just-wait“, a shudder runs deliciously down Thors spine. He'd make Loki see all his admiration, all this _I want you and thus you can't be ugly_ proudly curving in all strength up from his crotch. He'd even do good with what he thought so horribly wrong! How silly to even be ashamed of it, give Lokis self esteem an epic boost instead! Eagerly Thor already rips his tunic off his chest, smiles warm and heartfelt and says: „See? It's not that difficult – I'm not ashamed. And neither should you be!“

„Thor, that's ... really, that's … tha-“, once Thor's bare like a baby, seating himself back onto the black cabinet totally solemn faced, Loki nearly chokes on his tongue. There he sits, the mighty Thor, future king of Asgard, there he sits like nature created him with his golden hair and his muscular chest and his – OH GODS DAMMIT.

„Oh“, Loki get's out, pale like the walls now, blinking to free his gaze from what caught his dazed attention like an impossibly sized spell.

„That's what you do to me“, Thor mumbles portentously, „because you're beautiful.“

„Ah“, Loki giggles like a virgin, shaking his head, „you didn't … finish? Or's that your second go?“

In all his majestic celebration of _look how much I appreciate you_ Thor finds himself frowning. „Uh? No, no, I just didn't have the time to … you didn't notice?“ Somehow he hoped so earlier. But he didn't quite believe it.

„Not really I guess“, Loki admits.

„Oh. No matter.“

„But … you, I mean … don't you want to ... ?“

Thor sits with bated breath as an unspoken question floods his brothers suddenly too widened eyes. A question of what's expected from him now. Somehow this turns out to be rather awkward than comfortable. Thor shifts. And feels himself – to his distress now – throb out about seven pulses at the realization of how they're _really_ naked together. And, too late thinking about it, the realization of the fact that all these times they've actually only _once_ been completely naked together. Loki doesn't miss that, either, as Thor sees him glance seesaw between his raring erection and the locked door in something like panic. The walls are closing in, aren't they? Shoving their bodies together.

Thors heart thumps in an echo of danger, of fear, of the mountain, and, embarrassingly so, just as well it simply tumbles in tensed anticipation. But he's not really seeing fear wetting Lokis eyes. That weren't tears he blinked away. He cannot be afraid of him! Thor didn't mean to scare his brother. Loki knows that, doesn't he?

„Later“, Thor tries out soothing, ending rather in boasting, though, just to hide that tremble of uncertainty in his voice, „don't bother yourself with it. I'm leaving you in perfect peace. I told you I can.“

Loki frowns to the ground. Inhaling deep and thoughtful he whispers: „Good.“

And then, a few silent moments later, _finally_ , Loki sits in the tub. The water melting all his left defenses, the shelter from Thors eyes calming him so, he can't suppress an outdrawn moan that makes him close his eyes and sink into the graceful pool till his head lies rested against the marble.

„That's better“, he says and rubs his face. Then, huffing, mouth drawn into an awkward smirk, he sighs: „Oh well“, some sort of soft regret colouring his voice; he already glances onto the soaps and oils ready to be snatched and used. He'd probably just lie like this for a while before he'd wash his body, soaking his skin, enjoying every bit of warmth this bath so generously has to offer. If he was alone. If he was not watched.

„So, don't freak out“, Loki says and grabs with wet hands for the tubs side edges, „I'm not drowning, I'm just wetting my hair.“

Thor rolls his eyes and smiles, but this composure he's somehow able to fake up is not really in him. Only as Loki spurts back up through the damping surface, hair flowing down his neck like seaweed, only then Thor secretly breathes out again. Loki's quick at washing his hair and flushing it out. Absently he reaches for one eggshell coloured piece of soap, then, sniffs at its surface, doesn't like the sweet vanilla fragrance, puts it back and takes another. He decides to settle on the third he picks up.

Meanwhile Thor cannot help it but hopelessly marvel at how water's illustrating (Lokis) forms and movements. But as he realizes once _again_ he's staring at his brother, at his hands working white, bubbly cream from the slippery – _hard_ \- soap he hurries to squeeze his lids shut and sees dots of yellow and dark red hunt one another on an endless blackened floor. Touching his mouth with the back of his hand Thor's terrified by the fact that he actually _drooled_. And not only from his lips. There's something burning, only a drop, and running down all the length of his cramped shaft like the blade of a burning knife. His fingertips pulse in a spiraling rhythm and a painful moment his lungs just seem to drown in heat.

„Mother was angry“, Loki says all busy cleaning his skunky armpits. He doesn't look at Thor. Looking at Thor would embarrass them both.

„ … hm?“

„When I refused to meet a healer.“

„Worried, she“, Thor's barely able to bring his plump tongue to form words, “was worried.”

„And angry. She didn't show it. But she was.“

Thor sighs. But he's thankful for the brought up distraction, distracting him from … well. Trying to talk is almost easing the fire. „Maybe“, he more grunts that says, „but - can you resent her for it?“

A moment there comes no reply. Thors heartbeat slowly settles down again. Then but a whisper: „No.“

But poor Thors body is not granted a too long rest from outright cruel visual stimuli. It's now that Loki gets up to his knees, the water spurting down to fall into a pool around his thighs, turning his back on Thor, to get his most intimate areas out of the wet and thoroughly clean them up as well. Snaking his hands down his stomach he starts with what Thor really saw and touched and _tasted_ like a hundred times by now but what Loki's evidently still not willing to just show off like something ordinary.

Hiding it almost makes it worse, though. Thor eyes that tasty butt up, sees arms and elbows, shoulders, work, flinches at every slim muscle jerking under that skin (he hasn't found the right name for it still) … and as his brother cleans his hands off, gets new soap again ( _slides_ it, oh gods) and slips his right behind his back down his cleft it's just too much to bear. Thor doesn't dare to take more of this in. Bending down he actually tries to counts his toes instead. This is by no means MEANT to turn him on so hard! But it's tickling his blood all too deliciously, and, Nine, his blood is boiling. One insane moment he's sure he'll come and splash all over his own face.

„Say … are _you_ angry with me?“

Thor glances up, totally dizzy and surprised by Lokis suddenly so sheepish voice. And when did he sit down into the tub again?

„What?“

„I kind of … crashed your coronation, didn't I?“ He nibbles at his thumbnail, stares a hole into the wall, but then out of his so green eyes Loki dares to look up and into Thors; and as their gazes meet … Thor feels his cheeks burst in his broadest smile. Beside that crying hunger he's just damned to suffer Thor has never laughed that freely and amused. He didn't even realize this until now: The coronation, all his fears, even if only for a while, none of them press his shoulders down right now.

„I guess I can live with that“, he states the obvious, heart thrumming as a smirk crosses his brothers lips. A sparkle suddenly jumping from Lokis eyes tells Thor his brother's on a good way back to his mischievous humor. Loki straightens, water swashing round his bony chest, and turns to cross his arms placidly on the cool edge of the tub.

„Say“, he starts over again and quickly licks his lips, too quick to be lascivious, just like a salamander would, but clear enough to make Thor shiver with a wave of even new heat glowing from his loins. A challenge pulls at the corners of Lokis eyes. He's up to something, thus far Thor sees through him. And somehow he gladly wants to just join whatever kiddy game is on his brothers mind.

„In Vanaheim you told me ...“

Thors eyelids violently twitch as Loki lowers his own, possibly by accident but obviously by instinct, glancing down to examine that _thing_ but a heartbeat long. And Thor feels his temples hammer with a too hard pulse suddenly beaten by his strong, wild heart. As Loki joins their eye contact again his look is intense, almost absorbing Thor too much to get the blush painting Lokis white cheeks. Aside from almost fainting from denying himself Thor can't but smirk. This is adorable. _Are you being shy again, brother?_

„You told me that you thought of me when … mh“, _when you bed Sif_ , „and then you even … heard my voice.“

„Yes“, Thor presses out, dizzy at how Loki chose from everything said _this_ as to be most important to him. The little beast just knows what's best of all. Thor didn't expect that. It's strange but he didn't quite get to know this side of his brother yet. _My Loki._ Is that really pride of ownership boisterously blowing up Thors chest?

„And … this is the correct order?“

Thor frowns, confused now. „Hu?“

„You wanted me before you heard me?“

„Yes ... quite so? Does it make a difference?“

„Uhm“, Loki coughs into his fist and sucks his cheeks between his teeth to hide an overwhelming smile. In vain, though. No matter where he draws his chin, right or left, a smirk of such nature always fights its way out. And the blush's even deepening on his cheeks, ready and up to conquer the tips of his ears and his nose.

„Loki … ?“

„Wha-? No, no, it doesn't matter, doesn't … I just, mh, wondered.”

„You're smiling ear to ear, what's … ?“

A chuckle, gulped down only just and _warm_ , forming so warm sounds in the cave of Lokis mouth and deep there in his throat, gets to switch in the very nick of time to turn out being words: „I'm not“, but there's that smile betraying him. Thor really doesn't get what's it amusing Loki so, but Nine, he doesn't care, Loki is _smiling_. The reason couldn't matter less.

„So, annnnd“, Loki starts over again, playful, face flushed from giggling, „you talked about … a dream?“

_Nine._

Suddenly Thor gulps like a fool. Not that these dreamshades ever really left his mind since they entered it. But the thought of Loki being curious to hear about them makes these pictures, and especially the good ones, naughty, filthy, _good_ ones, rush so promptly back into Thors skull as to almost make his hands shoot in to clench around his aching flesh and just finally press down hard, just pump the fire out without restraint.

But really sharing them with Loki … ? Does he want details? Loki demanding such for the blank joy of it … Norns, that would be a totally new and SO seductive level to what they do! The mere idea hits the tensed Thunderer like his strongest jolt and echoes painfully sweet in all his muscles, playing his veins like shrieking sides of an instrument tuned so hard as to nearly crack. Thor doesn't know how and _why_ he manages to clench his nails into his knees instead of furiously grabbing down for his all at once madly needed release. The shudder doesn't leave him unmoved, though, as his hips rebel up to desperately search for a touch that cruelly isn't there. He whines and makes a face. So much for that self control he boasted about: That instant Thor _knows_ he'll come by the bare THOUGHT of – OH Realms – the bare memory of all he dreamed and all he craved and all he _actually did_ (though not enough, not yet enough), Thor knows he'll come just by the sight of Lokis eyes and lips opening as he glances down to see Thor throb for him so bad.

Lokis gaze darts up again, full of something Thor thinks, no longs for to be maybe startled, perhaps even innocently astounded, but pure, so violently pure desire. A grunt breaks free from his throat and he almost thrusts up hard again. Keeping it back is but such agony!

The question is: Why not just let it go? One rub of his rough thumbs, gaze locked with Lokis, could suffice by now ...

Another question is: What would that be the proof of? Weakness? Lost control? A promise broken?

 _Don't lick your lips now._ Loki licks his lips. Thor groans from forcing his trembling hips in place, hit terribly by these _pictures_ flooding him; Loki licks his lips. Loki sucks his fingers. Loki sucks Thors … ! Grinding his teeth he grunts again. Wide eyed he sees but stars for a moment and feels it burn and overload all his thick size, Gods, he's not even _touching_ it! As his vision clears open once again he glares into his brother like never before.

 _Don't you dare to gulp now!_  But Loki, sudden helplessness pulling at his brows, somewhat perplexed by what intense reaction his latest question, meant to tease or not, provoked, stares back into Thors staring eyes and gulps with an utmost pitiful sound. Thor groans again; that movement, Lokis larynx sliding up and down his throat like a hard and foreign object under this all too milky skin, that soft skin covering something moving beneath, _sliding_ , oh Gods, it nearly kills Thor instantly.

So. Self control won't work this way. Throwing his head back Thor just can't but pant for air. If he still wants to pull through this – and he doesn't even know WHAT FOR – he MUST find something in his spinning mind, a thought as horrible as to turn him violently off last minute like a swash of ice water poured out into his lap.

_Gods, something, please … !_

„I had you“, he grunts in torturing frustration, „HAD you … !“

_Anything!_

But there's just Loki, Loki everywhere, infecting all the corners of his open mind with smoldering embers. Loki moaning here, Loki squirming there, Loki sucking, clenching, dripping …

Loki jumping off the mountain. Loki being dead. _Dead_.

Oh, Nine, thank the Norns! Thor's back. This is, always again, a slap so harsh as to shatter all his bones and leave his body numb. Thor's back and clear like a thunderwashed sky.

„I had you“, he says, „but you died. You jumped off the mountain. I saw you die.“

Silence, sometimes, is just the loudest thing.

Loki closes his eyes and lets out a low, low sigh. Out of guilt or frustration Thor doesn't quite catch, maybe a mixture of both.

„Really?“

Thor nods. Loki doesn't see it, though, as his eyes are still closed. But he may hear it in the absence of words. Then he gets nervous in his tub, almost angry, shifts his torso, not sure where to put his fingers: bathtubs edge, his chin, his forehead, his hair, back down the bathtubs edge? The silver bracelet jingles round his wrist.

„And you REALLY think I planned stumbling over that goddamned chasm in the forest?“

Thor clears his throat, heart sinking suddenly. Loki was _mad_ in Vanaheim. Hunting him down Thor really thought he'd finally lost his brother. And even as he caught him – Loki fought him so. He'll probably never forget that moment.

„It was an accident! And I will NOT explain the knife to you again! Just think of all the troubles Fandral could have caused!“

Thor sighs, but Lokis reproach doesn't reach him now. He's only sad. And suddenly all too exhausted.

„Thor“, Loki wails as he won't get any reply. But then he's out of words himself and a shadow clouds his face: „You're a fool. A hopeless fool.“

„Maybe“, Thor grumbles. Loki nibbles his lip. They take some breaths in common silence once again.

„Okay. But now just … stop being stubborn and finish already“, Loki mumbles, nodding vaguely to Thors crotch, „I can't stand the sight of your branch anymore. What point are you trying to make with it anyways?“

„What?“

„You heard me.“

„Here?“

„Where else would you intent to go?“

„But you wouldn't mind?“

Loki groans. But … he's sorry for having caused Thor such horrible woe. _I allow you to_ , his apologizing glance says, _just end this stupid torture before I change my mind._

Considering Thor frowns. But then again … it's only Loki. So why make such a show of it?

With hanging head his golden hair falls down the left side of his face. He takes a huffy breath and gently closes his big hands around himself. But instead of thankful pleasure something like pain bites through his flesh. Thor shouts, trying to softly stroke his tip. Pumped full with blood and eagerness as it still is, Thor kind of doesn't feel it anymore. Like his whole proud evidence of being a man could possibly just turn purple from overload and break off like a dead bough. And it's strangely numb, though horribly sensitive to the touch, and, Nine, touched now it's _hurting_!

That is, to be honest, something Thor's never ever had to deal with before. Dull panic makes him halt and glance up to his brother for help. His mouth speaks faster than his brain can think: „Give me something to look at.“

„Excuse me?“

„I can't, I'm frozen. I need something to warm me up.“

„What?“

„Would you just HELP me? It's hurting!“

„WHAT“, Loki squeals again, this time in terrible distress as he realizes that Thor _means_ it, instinctively sinking just deeper down the tub to hide as much of himself as he possibly can, „what do you mean, something to LOOK at?"

„Don't know“, Thor whimpers rough and loud, shouting again as there's a vicious cramp crawling with claws down his thighs, up his stomach, „stand up, move, I don't know, move and touch your body!“

„WHAT? Dance for you like a WHORE? Forget it – NO!“

„Please!“

„NEVER!“

„Then – ouch! - do that with your fingers again!“

„What, fingers?“

„SUCK them, Hel!“

„WHAT?“

„Gods, like you did when you terminated that chicken, remember?“

„Yes, but-“

„I LIKED IT“, Thor grunts, „AH-OUCH!“

„Can't you just THINK of something … ?“

„Loki, PLEASE!“

Disgusted Loki scowls, but he also examines that manifested cramp spearing from his brothers lap, so dangerously taking on a darker and darker shade of red; Thors right leg trembles and even jerks one time. Rolling his eyes Loki shoots out a short and unwilling moan. But in the end he does as he's told. This seems to be much too serious.

Tensed like this Thor exhales, eyes glued to where Loki hesitantly sucks his right pointer finger into his lips. _Breathe_. He breathes, focusing only on relaxing his pained body, hands carefully kneading that problem between his thighs. It hurts so - Gods! But slowly, slowly, just as Loki gets smoother in his awkward movements, in his sucks and gulps, slowly Thor feels the pain melt off of him to be replaced by newborn warmth, growing into that well known pulse of lust. It tickles dark and yet a little sleepy, but unmistakably waking again. Thor shudders in a sweet shock drawn out through his veins and lets a low sound roll through the back of his throat, eyes heavy, lids burning so bad.

„Another“, he whispers. One finger's not enough, by far not. Loki may frown at him but Thor wouldn't get it anyways, so lost is he drowning in that image put in front of him: Lokis lips swell red again, and the slit where they meet his finger is so beautifully wet. One finger's just not _thick_ enough. From the depths of his appetite Thor _needs_ Lokis mouth to be full.

„For me, brother. Take two.“

And as a second digit crawls closer to sink into that paradise, join its companion that's already deep down and cradled there, Thor groans and cups his tip in his hot palm, thankful for this sheer pleasure aching in a completely different way than the pain before.

There's that gap between Lokis fingers, and no matter how hard he sucks down as they slide his tongue like a swing, it never completely closes. A little, naughty door for slick sounds to escape and tickle in Thors ears.

Burning with desire now Thors every further breath is moaned, stroking his lungs so good. And gratefully his hips join in his brothers suckling rhythm with all too fluid thrusts. Leaking into his hands it all get's smoother, better, _real_. If only he had more that but two hands, he wouldn't have to choose whether to touch this or that spot and always leave one to the cold, he'd have his pulsing shaft all head to base buried in pressure at the same time!

„Another“, he groans, too dizzy now to realize he thought out loud, and by meaning another hand he gets another finger to spread Lokis mouth just further open. Thor gasps as he glimpses rasping teeth and the tip of a pink tongue dipping the new member wet, welcoming it. The corners of Lokis stretched mouth glisten, so watered is it now from sucking, and his jaw works so deliciously fervent.

Thor roars as even hotter heat licks down his shaft and kisses his fully bloomed tip. And the sudden craving to _be_ these fingers, to replace them, forces him to jump up to his feet like a starving animal, eyes locked on this sinfully enchanting display so close to him. As he stands, shoulders bend forward like a looming threat, he merely manages to stagger one step on, though, as his hips fuck his hands so much harder, faster suddenly, and he shoot out a salve of hungry grunts.

This is when Loki jerks to press his back to the far side of the tub, fingers slipping out his mouth, and yells out: „STOP!“

„WHAT - NOW?!“ Thor, through the mists of want slapped back into reality, shoots his brothers eyes a bewildered glance. And what he finds in them is horror.

„STOP IT“, Loki shouts out again.

And Thor does. Though he doesn't know, by no means, how. He didn't think it possible to stop at this point – he didn't know anything would have ever stopped him close like that! But somehow, the Nine only know, the Thunderer violently forces his claws away from where he needs to be clawed the most. And there's a flash, he would have sworn, jerking with whitehot pain through his whole length at the sudden loss of friction. His hips rock their chaotic rhythm out, finding nothing to crash into, to rub against, to scratch across, _nothing_ , and he digs his fingers into his hair to pull, stumbling and panting so, so rough. There's no release for him, though he needs nothing more that to just RELEASE the whole electric impact smoldering there in his loins. He needs it SO much as to wheeze and even blink away some tears of wild frustration. Never before has Thor been denied this cruelly close. A heartbeat and he's sure he'll just implode and die from internal bleeding. No matter, if only he _would_ implode!

As the sizzling pressure stays, pulling at all his nerves, but as his body cramps into a kind of rest again, his hips growing slower in their insanity, Thor feels he's kind of getting to his senses again; his heart is pounding everywhere and sweat streams down his body. Loki gazes with wide, green eyes right up to him in blank fear. Like a child.

„I just … wanted to see if you … if you can“, Loki says.

„What?“

„If you can stop.“

… _what?_

„WHAT?“ Thors heart sinks down his guts. _No_. This is just – NO! Loki's not really trembling like facing a beast about to slaughter him! This is NOT FAIR!

„You're AFRAID of me?“

And the instinctual glance shot at the locked door is enough – no, too much.

Thunders and lightnings return to rage over the roofs of Asgard just once more today. Thors anger grumbles bitter and violently cold in the skies. And Loki jerks, answering not in words but utmost pitiful whimpers.

Thor spits out a cry of disappointed wrath. As if he didn't learn his lesson on the mountain! As if he wouldn't risk his life to make it all undone! As if he was but a ruthless brute, a bestial MONSTER!

„You think I'd HURT you again?“ That's also why Loki freaked so out in bed earlier, isn't it? Oh, NINE, this isn't fair!

„I don't know“, comes a sobbed reply.

„And you think I COULD?“ Thor wants to smash a skull with Mjolnir! Ah, GODS, he wants to fuck his brothers damned ungrateful throat and FINALLY fuck the lies out of it, TAKE what Loki, selfish beast, owes him anyways! But instead he just roars, feeding his maniac anger even more with the echoes of his monstrous voice thrown back at him from the tiled walls.

„M-m-m-maybe,“, Loki stutters, crouching so pathetically in his tub, “maybe just by accident! Not on purpose! You didn't do it on purpose on the mountain! What if it just overwhelms you again?“

„NO, Loki. Never! How can you even THINK I would-“

„How can _you_ think you wouldn't? How can you possibly KNOW?“

„I KNOW IT!!!“

„And I DON'T TRUST YOUR FORCE“, Loki snaps, ferocious now, no longer shrinking back. Just like a desperate animal forced into a corner somewhen decides to bite.

„As much as I DON'T TRUST your LYING tongue“, Thor booms against that, „didn't want to die, AS IF!“

„Sweet! So we don't trust each other! We've got something in common!“

Thor grits his teeth and lets a brutal thunder burst like an explosion just above their heads, scaring the wit out of Loki who ends up ducking down with a yelp, too deep down, for he dips his face into the bathing water, breathes it into his lungs and spurts back up again, coughing and panting in hysteria.

Voice sore he scowls at Thor and spits: „You! I -!!!“ _-hate you._

But he doesn't get there.

„NO, Loki, I HATE YOU!!!”

Thor cannot keep it in, so hurt is he inside. Hurt by what he did to his brother. Hurt by what he destroyed between them. Hurt by the fact that Loki doesn't see _how much_ he hates himself for it.

Too hurt to see Lokis eyes break like glass breaks into shards if a stone is thrown at it.

Groaning in his own agony Thor turns around to breathe. His chest, cramped firm and solid, heaves painfully with his every wild pant. But there are only more words bursting out of him, hitting like Mjolnirs unforgiving impact hits a chosen victim: “I should NEVER have brought you home, you were RIGHT! Are you HAPPY NOW? I should just have let you ROT in Vanaheim! I wish I never found you!”

As an impatient shudder crawls hot through his loins, reminding him of the most unfitting thing to a moment like this, Thor glares down and grits his teeth at his tree trunk prick deformed with thick veins pumping out from it. Cursing he wrings his hands.

But he calms down. Just not without a never leaving bitterness infecting him.

And then he hears a sob. But he's too cruel to let his heart be stirred by it.

“I'm sorry”, Loki pules with a too small voice behind Thors back, teardrowned and wretched and oh so scared.

Thor grunts.

“I'm SORRY!”

But Thor shakes his head and grabs down for his trousers on the floor, fishing the bathroom key out his pocket. He turns to the door; Loki gasps in dismay. “NO”, he cries out, “Thor, you – NO!”

But Thor sticks the key into its iron hole, ready to leave. His head hammers with too much cutting fire, burning, freezing him, and he just cannot _bear_ to stay here any longer.

Loki sobs again. Water splashes with tumult, wet feet slap the floortiles in a desperate hurry. And Loki babbles things between shedding unhidden tears across his white face flushed with sudden red spots like beating marks, _I'm sorry, brother, no, don't leave, you love me, you told me, don't hate me, I'm sorry,_ as he grabs for Thors wrist and clings to his arm, trying so hard not to be shaken off, as he passionately nestles his dripping body right into Thors, slings his arms round his neck and tries to kiss him just to make him stay, no matter how and what for in the end.

Thor, taken off guard by such an emotional reaction, lets himself be overpowered and pushed against the door with his broad back, roars out as Loki's pressing all his flesh against his own and _burns_ it, burns the center of his pain and yearning with that desperate touch. But as he feels it melt him down and blind his eyes, Norns, for a heartbeat Thor's all blind, alarm shrieks high and rasping notes into his skull. He can't but push Loki away, both with his hands hustling him off and his hips nearly wanting to thrust him into pieces.

And there they stand, Loki staggered two steps off, Thor sunk against the door, stares locked like meant to stare into each other for all times.

“I'm sorry”, Loki pants. Naked and trembling and dripping. His eyes shine even greener, so suddenly wept red as they are. But they don't look like _Lokis_ anymore. Thor's terrified. This pleading creature isn't Loki … is it? What is this all at once?

“Let me show – I, -” Gaze wild and shifting Loki hurries down onto his knees as soon as he makes up his mind to, and, crawling closer, crouching there, _right_ there – _too close_ \- he stares up eager eyed into his brothers unbelieving face like a numb slave asks for permission.

Eyebrows twitching in another wave of fear, but a different fear this time, Loki touches Thors shins with trembling fingers and sobs out once again: “Don't hate me, please. I'm sorry.” His hopeless words stroke across Thors strident ready length curving in greedy throbs into the breath.

_What IS this all at once?_

Thors head weighs far too heavy for his neck as he glares down, not blinking, down into that unreal sight of Lokis face nearing his brutal erection, and a vicious sting bites up his spine from keeping himself _back_ , from not just _thrusting_ like a sword into a wound.

Loki eyes it up, his chosen duty in flesh waiting for him merely inches away. A jerk runs through his face, hysteria, and tears make his eyes shine like water, and Thor almost whites out as he sees Loki actually _consider_ , as he sees Loki _measure_ if he's able to – how _much_ he would, no, could – how _deep_ \- licking his lips with mad resolve like undaunted by death.

And a thorn gashes Thors heart. This is wrong. Loki's scared. This is just wrong! _No, Loki_ – but Thors tongue's like dead. He cannot say it, stop it, CAN'T! He WANTS it just too much! Even though he should yell _you don't need to_ , though he's utmost horrified by this raw misery his brother somehow crumbled down to be and how ruinously far he'd go to keep Thors love, he can't reject this mind blowing madness he's offered in such a wrong way. His body WANTS it so!

But … isn't it alright? Can't it be alright? To just let Loki do what he thinks he must? And isn't it a chance for Thor to prove himself finally worth his brothers trust? If he'd be gentle, if he'd behave and stay still, claiming nothing, would Loki see how much he wronged Thor with his fears?

He doesn't find the courage to ask himself if he really _could_ be gentle, though … once Loki … _oh, Nine._

But Thor waits, neither allowing nor stopping his brother, wheezing his breath out gritted teeth now, waiting, staring as Loki cannot decide, chin trembling, whether to kiss Thors ripe tip with his lips or to open them and cup it with the cradle of tongue.

Thor, cursing himself inside, grabs faster than reason can stop him for Lokis head with both his hands as his patience SNAPS off and just leaves him dying; clawing into wet ravenhair he pulls Loki closer and forces his mouth wide open for a terrified gasp. He locks his mad eyes with Lokis no less mad ones another of so many times today. Lokis lips circle Thors thick head without yet touching it, and pants like flames tease it into sheer agony pumping beyond pain. But still Thor doesn't let his hips just take and _rape_. Not again. Really, how could Loki even THINK he would? He learned his lesson.

Thor whimpers down into his brother. _Help me_ he wants to scream. But nothing leaves him but a too pathetic sound.

And then Loki closes his eyes, lays his hands onto Thors caging his skull, and just surrenders into this – his apology. The tip of his tongue dips ahead for a first contact, almost too shy, and fondles Thors fleshy slit with a careful lick. And his lips sink down, too, round this compact ball at their door. And it melts all into one oh so lush caress.

A breathless cry of bliss jerks Thors neck back to bang his skull against the door with force. Spasms tear at his muscles and send nervous twitches through the firm mass of his pecs. It's unbelievable, he CAN'T believe it even now – Loki is really, REALLY - like he did in Thors dream - and it's just the beginning and already _so much better_ , NINE! A groan starting in lower tones and darting up into hoarse heights breaks loose from him as Loki tries out his first suck. Thor can't but scratch his brothers scalp, letting the sudden passion out somewhere. Otherwise he'd totally thrust down Lokis throat in one brute strike and make him choke on it. Loki doesn't complain. He claws the backs of Thors hands in reply.

But as there suddenly are teeth, bashful but curious, introducing themselves to this game, _rasping_ him, Thor can't even roar at the sensation. His eyes spring open as he panics all at once and his throat swells close as a gruesome foreshadowing disturbs his yet too young lust: He'll come, he knows it, and coming merely having passed Lokis threshold would just be SUCH a shame, a waste drilling tears from his eyes. He knows it, _feels_ it suddenly – _no, not yet, NO_ – as a thin, hard stream shoots out his size and against the pressed up bed of Lokis tongue. But no, gods, no, that wasn't it, only a terribly hard leak. A grateful sob whines its way out his mouth and his right foot kicks as his hips want to thrust again – but are denied with all the Thunderers force.

Lolling his head and panting heavy breaths Thor glances down to catch – _oh, thank you, Nine_ – the exact moment Loki gulps down his leak. Another shock runs through Thors too pleased yet too hungry body (and he hisses), though the gulp is so far down Lokis throat that it doesn't even really squeeze what little of Thor's yet inside. The way Loki must,  _intents_ to go, measured by Thors impressive spear, is anyways a long one still. He's got so much to swallow yet. Thor's got so much yet to be touched.

There's something else already killing him, though. The fact that Loki _tastes_ him.

A sob steals out his mouth as he marvels at his brothers face, almost peaceful in his deep concentration. He wants to touch Lokis lashes in a sudden tenderness and kiss his lids. So bad. Loki _tastes_ him. No disgusted twitch steals into his brows. And neither do his nostrils blow. He doesn't spit it out. Caressing Lokis temples with his thumbs Thor wants to cry in joy. This is so beautiful it hurts.

“Gorgeous”, he awes, “you're gorgeous.”

Almost Lokis lids flutter open to these healing words. But he does not dare to glance up and meet Thors raw and in his lust so honest gaze. Although his cheeks blush in a rosy pride and just encouraged eagerness for earning himself more of this. He may not be too used to hear sweets like these fondle his ears, but his next deep suck (devouring a sensational whole fingers length _more_ ) leaves no doubt as to how he likes being praised.

Thor moans like a bull smelling a willing cow at the sudden slide he's granted into Lokis boiling mouth. Pulling his brothers fragile skull even closer in that shudder vibrating his bones away Thor steals even a little more from him and shoves his flesh in deeper, gliding just so easily through this ambrosial portal of Lokis tender lips; his veins race a greedy pulse from his iron flesh into these lips obscenely slick and oh so delicate skin. Thor feels his brain melt and run down his neck and shoulders in hot lines as his thick tip forges ahead down Lokis twitchy tongue to brush against a sudden barrier; he's barely _halfway_ in as he bumps into the back wall of Lokis throat (humming with an astounded sound formed there and _tickling_ him so sweet to yell and leak again).

But Loki gags, eyes springing open at the unexpectedly intense penetration, and snorts in a slight panic to choke. Then he gulps again and not just once and fast and _tight_ , one, two, three cramping times, to swallow Thors new torrent down before getting it the wrong way and into his lungs.

“LOKI”, Thor howls at being milked that hard, shouting it almost like a desperate warning – _this is too much_ \- spine arching right into the door. His knees want to give in under this rough wave of pleasure pulling him down a sudden abyss. But just as much as he forces his hips inert he manages not to collapse. Electricity gnaws through his loins, sizzling down both his thighs, and fire, _fire_ licks where Lokis heat surrounds him. But biting down his teeth with an iron will Thor holds on for the lust he knows he'll miss if he comes yet. This is too good to end that soon.

Loki just won't calm down again.

“Brother, hush”, Thor pants, voice sore and completely undone, “hush … shhhh ...”, but an explosion of light blossoms behind his lids as Loki chokes again – _clenching so tight_ – and snuffles out a whine (and thus only a new wave of so reaming vibrations). Thor gasps in breath for a cascade of pants. His fingers claw like iron into Lokis skull.

“CALM, brother, calm down, please! I beg you – I BEG you!”

And wonders happen. Sometimes they do. Loki freezes around Thors weakest spot and dares to glance up as Thors head falls down onto his heaving chest. Lokis breath soughs through his nostrils. His jawbone shivers, mouth stretched to extremes, and his so beautifully swollen lips glisten so wet.

Thor coughs more than he breathes. But his lungs work fervently, his heart no less to make his blood circulate through his overstrained muscles in a flow again instead of a geyser. Gazing down into Lokis unblinking eyes for heartbeat after heartbeat the sight of such _submission_ makes the tip of his tongue prickle deliciously and full of sudden pride.

Thor still didn't quite realize that this is really happening. _This is happening. And Loki does it all for me._

“Good”, he coos and possessively strokes _his Lokis_ temples with the rough pads of his thumbs, “perfect … “

Loki doesn't gulp again. His waters slowly gather in his mouth and would probably make Thor swim if he wasn't such an expletive, pressing mass leaving no room wherever it enters. Gently massaging his brothers scalp Thor fondles Loki to relax and close his eyes again.

“You're brave”, Thor sighs, “so brave … “, and Loki purrs against Thors tip, sending a quiver up his spine to press a pleasured moan out of his lungs. Thor smiles.

“Good boy”, growls from his throbbing throat, “now … can you … careful, brother … move? Can you do that, brother?”

There is that hesitation twitching in Lokis fingertips. He palpates Thors knuckles instead of doing anything else, too unsure and unexperienced. He obviously didn't do this before. And only from watching what they do, or what _Thor_ does, he didn't learn that much about these special arts it seems.

As the wait grows awkwardly long and Thor gets _why_ he can't but chuckle.

“You want me to like this, don't you?”

He grins even more as Loki scowls up at him – unintentionally cute (and, thank the Nine, finally more his defiant self again). But then Thor sighs, warm, dull shudders of lust lazily surging through him still. The untouched half of his shaft silently yearns in the cold. And suddenly Thor's weary enough and ready to beg. His lids sink close again.

“Don't torture me … please, Loki … please … ”

And Loki moves. A gasp opens Thors mouth for a savoury moan. His blood pulses into a harder pace again, especially down there where all his weight seems to have congealed into a solid sculpture of need. Loki draws back, slowly, gently … just to suck himself all the way down again.

“Yes”, Thor shoots out as his head bumps against the door once more, his eyes hopelessly rolling away, “good, right so - !”

It doesn't take Loki much longer with such cheers to sink into a perfect rhythm now. And every slide he performs on the curve of Thors lust new praises slur for him from above, sweet, sweet rewards for his endeavors raining down on him like petals.

“That's it, gorgeous … good, Loki … wonderful … I'm proud, so … good, ohhh, good boy … love you – love you – love you ...“

Until Thor cannot speak. Until he just forgets how to. Until he merely moans to tell Loki how well he's pleasing him.

And, having long shed all his pride, it drives Loki to break all chains. Oh Nine, Gods, Loki's _really_ brave. Thor can't but howl as he feels his tip cross that line which made Loki hopelessly gag the first time he pushed against it: Concentrating all his senses onto breathing through his nose Loki lets Thor deeper than both of them would have even thought possible. With every slide he lets Thor dig inside and throats it down, firm flesh shoving its way inch for inch deeper down into his body.

And, clever as always, he quickly learns how to use his gulps like weapons.

Completely gone, completely swallowed then, all his size, Nine, _everything_ , then it's finally enough: Thor sobs in fierce tries to keep breathing in this overwhelming fire flooding and drowning him all inside out. He spreads his fingers in Lokis wet hair and claws down his brothers skull one last time, in the end not able to keep back anymore, and moves him, moves Lokis head to match his own thrusts – all these thrusts he chained back bursting loose like a beast to destroy the world. And he takes Loki with a greed almost innocent for its inevitable demise, takes Loki like the last remaining sanctuary, the last place to be.

An awestruck yelp singing of what beauties his climax makes him glimpse echoes out of Thors lungs and back into his ringing ears. A sting, a jerk runs through his body, pulsing down his shaft buried as deep as possible in Lokis mouth; he comes and floods and conquers everything he ever wanted.

Loki tries to gulp the fire down, but shot into him like that he doesn't even _need_ to – for it finds its way and treads it like a holy path. But that instant Thors hips, rocking out their anarchic lusts last vital sparks, make his thick and even now _hard_ shaft slither out Loki pipe and, followed by the bobbing head, up into the cave of his mouth again. And but another gush spurts out it like out of a gun and fills Lokis mouth so unexpectedly and hot enough to burn his tongue that he ends up choking, utmost pitiful noises fleeing out his nostrils, gulping for dear life now. Thors juice just _won't_ seem to decrease. It's streaming still, pump after pump, and Loki cannot take it all, it just won't fit-

Around Thors flesh and out Lokis lips soaks the white fountain to flee in a slim stream of drops down his chin. And Loki coughs as he tries to breathe, forgetting to suck the air through his nose instead of his mouth.

This is when Thor from high up in the cosmic clouds falls back into his body and realizes just how much Loki struggles in his grip forcing his head in place. He lets him go and pulls out in a severe haste. With a wet smack Thors yet curved length slides out into the cold. A final splash releases him over the left side of his brothers face. And he slides down the door, knees finally wobbling away under his weight, and collapses eye to eye with a Loki yelping for breath through a terribly shaking mouth.

“Hel”, Thor groans, panic urging his spent and weak body to be strong one last time – as he sees Loki falter.

“BROTHER!” Thor grabs Lokis bony shoulders, catching his fall.

“Are you alright?”

Loki whines.

“Loki, did I hurt you?”

Loki rolls his eyes, head falling back.

“BROTHER?”

And Lokis whole body trembles under the impact of a squall-like sneeze.

“It's in my nose”, he gasps, wringing his hands and hysterically pointing to his dripping face, “it's everywhere!”

Thot lets out a questioning grunt as he doesn't directly get what bothers Loki so: “What – are you HURT, brother? Loki, what's wrong?”

Loki pants and wails. “It's in my NOSE I say!”

_Oh._

Time for Thors mind to really start working again. Before he even realized he sought for something on the ground he finds his fingers grab something, anything cloth in reach and pulls it up to Lokis face, carefully covering his nose.

“Snort”, he says. Loki snorts into the fabric like he's told. And breathes, brows twitching. And then he just sits sniffing like a child, angry and ashamed, a child that's been caught trying to fly and falling to bump on its face instead.

Thor lets out a sigh as Loki sits calm in front of him. He lets the cloth – his tunic, but he doesn't care – absently slip to the floor. And he can't but sigh again. He really hit Lokis whole left side. It's all dripping, his nose and cheek and ear. His hair. Even the lashes round his eye.

Thor gulps. That wasn't very nice of him.

But somehow, and it's just so silly, he urgently wants to _touch_ it, Lokis face covered with that thick and possession marking film of _Thor_ – he really needs to touch it. His heart leaps as his fingertips gently slide down Lokis jaw (and Loki doesn't flinch away), smearing through the slick white rolling down to his brothers chin, dripping, still warm and creaming liquid. Fondly Thors thumb caresses the lower lip of Lokis mouth. Awe tears at all his senses.

“And ... you're not hurt?”

“No, I'm not.”

“Are you sure?”

“Yes already!”

Thors fluttering heart pumps a last vague moan out his chest.

“Deluge”, Loki chides. But he doesn't slap Thors fingers out his face, playing like hypnotized with his blotted skin.

“I'm sorry”, Thor slurs and smiles suddenly at how it's his part to say this now. Loki smiles, too.

“Do you even know what for?”

“I don't hate you. I was angry and stupid.”

Loki chuckles. And Thors weary lids fall close at the soft sound of it. But they spring open once again as Lokis hand darts up like a snake to get sudden hold of Thors, stilling it, and then ever so gently presses its palm against his lips for a sweet kiss.

Thor pulls Loki into a hug, and nuzzling skin on skin it's but a pure moment of essential closeness they share, no expectations blurring it, no misunderstandings building walls between them. Thor strokes down Lokis spine and huffs, placing a kiss down on this milky forehead.

Lokis hand rests on Thors chest, rising and falling with his peaceful breathing. The silver bracelet lies round Lokis wrist, and Thors free hand comes closer to finger this delicate object looking so fragile but secretly being so strong. He marvels suddenly at how much it just fits his brother.

“With or without”, he absently muses, “you're magic.”

And Loki doesn't dare say something to this. But Thor feels in his coy shifts against his chest that it makes Loki feel both too happy and all too sad.

“I'll have to wash my hair _again_ ”, he snarls instead of sharing what is really wandering there on his mind. But there's that hint of a smirk in his voice.

Thor chuckles. “Yes, probably.”

 


	26. Oiling the hinges

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So.
> 
> I didn't quite believe there'd be the 27. But here it is. Don't ask me how.  
> There's no much plot for us this time, my loves. There's Thorki, though. And, hold your breaths, I'm having one seriously ugly cliffhanger prepared, as this chapter grew longer and longer and at some point I HAD to make a cut. The sequel's in the making at this point.  
> But no more words, I hope you enjoy what you read. And tell me if you do. I live on praise. I'm such a person.
> 
> Love you,  
> the Bee that owes you sex ;3

 

 

Of course Loki lied when he claimed not to be hurt.

His face pulsates with dull and strangely numb pain from being stretched so hard. That instant Thor lost control just like his nature eventually HAD to make him Loki actually thought his brother would just break his skull apart. He thought he felt it creak. He would have sworn Thor spread his mouth as wide as to rip his jaw off. One heartbeat he would totally have SWORN it. Not to mention that he's dimly sick of his stomach right now, having swallowed so much and so warm a liquid that's not directly meant to be ... drunken. His brain, of course, feels wobbling dizzy from Thors final pace. And his throat is sore from coughing.

But he can't bring himself to confess these aches. There's just that foreign feeling softly swimming in his chest, a never known form of pride forbidding him to wail about the consequences of his insane gift to Thor. As much as his mind wants to tell him how he abased himself with it, as much as it puzzles him why he did it _at all,_ these aches seems little compared to what more this act brought him to feel; truly and most admired. Nine, it's completely mad, but Loki's never felt that beautiful for anyone. Not for Thor, never. None of all these times they collided, secretly, hiding from the world their sinful lust. It shouldn't be this way but this final surrender, this submission, _this awkwardness_ has been the first time Loki realized just how much his mighty brother really falls for him.

No, Loki won't complain. The prize he won is high, the prize he paid ridiculous: This time the pain's not half as bad as the one he carried from the mountain.

And it's just strange. Loki feels … gentle now. Vulnerable, far too easily crushed without his magics and far too easily hurt now that he openly showed how little he could bear losing his brothers affection, but somehow finally gentle and appeased ... so proudly possessed by Thor. The last one left to ever really know and love him. The last to matter.

Like this they stay for a while, naked but warm, Thor sunken against the door and Loki more lying than sitting in his lap. Together they just breathe.

Cheek nuzzled against goldstrong skin Lokis lids almost fall close into a peaceful slumber. These strong hands softly palming his shoulder blade and hipbone, tickling lovestrokes across his skin, spending him warmth in their unbelievably tender strength just make him melt away. One insane moment he smiles and blushes, for he realizes that he feels like a girl … and doesn't even mind. All he wants is to be held like this forever.

But he can't fall asleep as he won't get his eyes off his own fingers trailing that broad land of a chest, one nail gently scratching the isle of a nipple. Thor rumbles a pleasured sound and hums into Lokis hair. But he won't be too passionately stirred by the tease; Loki feels Thors size pressed slack like a sleepy snake against his buttocks; no, Thor's _really_ sated and satisfied.

Loki, though, empty minded, just repeats that touch again. He doesn't even know why, for, Gods, he CAN'T need Thor to get hungry once more today, can he? It's just, this mass of a body, that incredible mountain, it's all Thor and Thor's all his right now, isn't he? Loki just absently toys around with him like with some unforeseen and matchless present the good Realms bestowed on his unworthy person. And he can't believe it still.

Thor gently groans again, chuckles and kisses Lokis head. The heat glowing from his lips is just too beautiful.

_Is this real?_

Nine, it's real.

However, this is when out of a sudden, and not even due to freezing, Lokis teeth start to miserably chatter. _Oh._ Maybe it's just his jaw finally relaxing again.

„Hu – Loki, what's wrong?!“ Thor gives a light jerk under him. Lokis throat takes its late revenge now and won't let him form any honorable reply but a whistle.

„Loki“, sounds nervously from above again, „what is it?“

„M-mmmnot cold“, he tries. Well, at least that was something like words. He can absolutely _hear_ Thor frown as he hesitates, shifting uncomfortably.

„Are you, uh … alseep then?“

„Hhhhhmmm-m.“

„Don't fall asleep, brother. It's cold on the floor.“

„I'm not-“, _cold!_ Yes, speaking is getting better again. But it's already too late. Thor heaves him up with ease and their beautiful moment is gone.

„Come, get up“, Thor groans in fake effort and presses a kiss like a fruit against Lokis regret wrinkled forehead.

„Fine“, he sighs with a light vibration in his voice - the chattering teeth - and lets himself be handled like a doll.

Once they stand face to face Thor can't but smile one broad and shameless grin at the sight of dry, white blotches staining Lokis face. Bringing his thumb up he gives that dirty cheek a pinch.

_Uh. Wait._

Loki slaps Thors hand away and groans as he remembers quite embarrassed what's been raining down on him as he knelt below his brother. All too suddenly he blushes, wide awake now.

„Oh, just grin, you derp! I know exactly how I look like“, Loki snarls. But in fact he can't imagine how Thors dried come painting his face – uh, no, no matter how seductive he felt that mad moment they flushed it through, he doesn't even WANT to know how silly he looks right now. Ears burning he turns around in search for a sponge or anything to clean himself up. But he'd need to look into a mirror for that, so he hesitates and makes one most disgusted face. He'd see the whole unpleasant amount of Loki having Thor-come in his face. _Oh Nine._

„I'll do that for you“, Thor giggles, having read his brothers thoughts from his grimace.

But Loki shoots him a glare and cocks his legendary eyebrow: „I don't trust you. You'll leave something there in the shape of a heart to let me run around with it.“

Eyes sparkling in disbelief Thor roars out stunned guffaws. „Don't rouse ideas in me, brother!“

And Loki groans again. But he'd smile. If his pride wouldn't strictly forbid it he'd smile at the charm of this ridiculous lovey-dovey banter.

Shaking his head he stalks to the washbasin and the half moon mirror right above it, grabbing for a facecloth and just biting his teeth through the shame of examining his come-smeared reflection. Wetting the cloth he snorts before rubbing his skin clean from the least he would have possibly thought to ever stick to it.

Chuckling still Thor's directly at his back, the heat of his body the only barrier between them. As Loki refuses to meet his shining eyes in the mirror Thors fingers tickle his naked side. And Loki gulps a purr down at the tenderness these raw fingertips really shouldn't be capable of unleashing.

„Don't think me too besotted, Thor, I'm not quite interested in you right now.“ Oh, HOW Loki's a liar bowing down to rinse his hair ends out under the water tap! Thor laughs behind him, breathy, deep and terribly amused.

Only moments later Loki realizes that he probably shouldn't have brought his body down into this new position, though, froward liar or not, as there's suddenly skin on his skin from above and behind. And firm flesh. Caging him tightly.

_Wait._

Thor's not really going for another ride now, is he? And not the way they clearly came to know just doesn't _work_ for them? Freezing in his movement Loki gulps.

„Then ignore me“, Thor suggests with a smile against Lokis nape and licks his oh too luscious kisses down on him. His arms slide themselves crosswise round Lokis torso, hands palming his stomach and flank. And Loki, trying badly to hush down and not react, not encourage this, opens his mouth for a silent gasp, closes his eyes at the intense sensation and jerks away to get his butt out of his brothers lap. Having sat in it only moments ago didn't quite feel as dangerous as being bend down and pressed into it like a mare to be mated.

_The mountain._

The mountain and the PAIN. Nine, the bare memory makes Loki feel gruesome stings bite into his entrance like a spreading jolt! All else may be alright right now but _this_ he cannot take again.

So, okay, catlick on both face and hair has to suffice for now. Fuck soap and shit. Loki snakes himself around in Thors playfully subduing hug (Thor straightens, easing Loki the way to do so himself) and faces his tall brother, buttocks pressed against the basin now, to get his exposed body out of possible danger. The habit of panic makes his heart thump harder for some beats.

But he gulps in the eye of Thors gentle face speaking of nothing more but fondness; there his manhood snuggles soft and tame against Lokis own and doesn't seem to even think of hurting him.

_Oh … oh Hel. I'm paranoid._

So Loki ends up rather contrite about having suspected peril from his brother once again. Contrite but also relieved.

How strange, though, how ... Thor examines his lips in a completely new way now that he knows what more but kissing they can do.

Suddenly there's a thumb tracing the line of Lokis mouth. Thors eyes are free from greed, they're pure, full of awe causing Loki the strongest embarrassment; at the coy flutter in his chest he gently lets his head sink down, bashfully, almost humbly swaying in this unexpected tenderness.

„Thank you“, Thor breathes.

But this is, woe betide, directly awkward again. Like ex post gratefulness reduces their just shared intimacy to a very ordinary blowjob. Alas, Thor seems to like some courtesy. He was pretty offended as Loki didn't thank _him_ earlier. The dork. Just doesn't know how to treasure a silent bliss and kills it off with words. Upset Loki refuses to kiss Thors thumb (as he actually found himself consider for a heartbeat).

As he frowns Thor seems to get it not as alienation but as confusion, though, and starts anew, this time in a tone even more solemn: „Thank you for breathing. For being here.“ He smiles in his probably most caressing way as he lifts Lokis face by his chin. There's a fragility in Thors voice that's never been there, never before. And Loki, having misunderstood his brothers intentions just another time, shrinks flabbergasted at his secret shame.

„What would my world have been if you had never come back home?“ Hurt flickers through Thors eyes. And an echo of fear and sadness so unfamiliar in the face of the golden prince of Asgard.

 _You mean if I'd died._ If Loki'd killed himself, like Thor still seems to think he wanted to. Or if he'd just died by accident, the chasm, no matter. Thor doesn't get that out, though.

_You thank me for being alive?_

And Loki doesn't blink, breath bated by such sudden sentiments. But though deeply tempted to melt in their melody he feels rather frightened away instead. His heart takes an armor on; without it's just too small to bear this.

Anyways, what would Thors world be without Loki?

„A Kingdom“, he plainly remarks. And darn Thors silly fears of reigning, the idiot SHOULD want his throne instead of whoring with his brother. Lokis eyelids fall down his vision and blind it out. Suddenly all his limbs whine, violently tired as they are, and he could fall asleep right away.

But distant thunder startles him anew. Once more there's thunder crawling over the palace. And rain. Thor's getting mad again. Loki glances up all terrified into a mask of disappointment challenging him with far more emotional stress than he feels possibly able to handle anymore.

_Nine, please. Not THAT again._

„Thor“, he laments with the most pitiful of faces, „just don't get angry, I-“ _am so friggin' tired that I'll faint if you force me into one more feelsy fight!_

Thor just wouldn't be Thor if his love didn't have this brutally swamping side to it.

„Why do you SAY such things? They're not even true!“

„Of course they are - I did crash your coronation.“

„But you think I'd be better off without you? You are not to decide that, Loki!“

„I didn't say -“

„You DID!“

Loki groans, cheeks pink with pale dots from exhaustion. And Thor grabs his shoulders to shake him.

„I WARN you, brother, if you EVER dare to leave me for such STUPID thoughts - !“

„What are you even TALKING about?“

„I'm talking about THIS, runaway!“ And Thor pinches for the skin on Lokis throat where he cut himself with the knife; Loki jerks, letting out a sound for the sharp pain sizzling through the tiny cut, and scowls incensed.

„I did NEVER want to kill myself, oaf! How many times am I to tell you? It's getting ridiculous!“

„But you DID intent to leave, didn't you? And dying's just another way of leaving! I came to trust you to do ANYTHING!“

Loki sobs, helpless rage and confusion thumping his skull. Gods, he's not even sure of the truth anymore! It's not fair – why must they always fight these silly fights?

„I DIDN'T want to die“, he spits again, „now CAN'T you just finally stop that?“

A screeching flash splits the sky and Thor tugs Loki into one iron embrace even before he can flinch in fright. Some few tears Loki can't bite away, so they roll down Thors strong shoulder. Thor in turn huffs his bitter breaths down Lokis neck to calm himself (and the thunder) down – but probably doesn't believe a word his brother said. What's not even his fault, as Loki confessed his chronic lying himself in Vanaheim.

Until their hearts feel like pumping synchronous rhythms they remain like this. Until these rhythms appear louder than the thunder slowly crawling back to where it came from.

Then Thor grants Loki some space and looks down into his eyes, smiles one rueful smile perfectly fitting the last shamefaced gush of rain outside. And he brings his hand to his face, _forgive me_ , fingers gently touching the rings under Lokis weary eyes.

„Do me one last favor today“, he says. And Loki sighs at the returning softness of his brothers words, lids sinking close, his lashes caressing Thors fingertips like the frail wings of a moth. He agrees with a nod. _Anything to finally stop this._

Thor gently pulls him five steps over to where the full body mirror hangs on the wall - hidden under a towel. At once Lokis insides pull tighter together in slight reluctance of what's clearly to come. But he won't let his forehead frown his suspicion out too visibly yet. Well, not until Thor whips the towel away in one strong and fluid movement, revealing both their naked bodies reflected in a loose embrace: „Just let me show you the only kingdom I want.“

There's nothing that would ever have destroyed Lokis willingness to cooperate more that that.

 _So these are thy schmaltzy plans, my prince?_ This is totally going to be the 'look, you're too pretty to die' farce. _Really now, is this necessary?_

As Thor steps behind Lokis back and tenderly hugs him again, shoving his arms under Lokis and around his chest (he seems to like it that way), Loki meets his brothers eyes in the mirror close enough to touch. He won't do Thor the favor and marvel down himself, suddenly SO convinced by the sparkling beauty of his awkward, waifish limbs under that lucifugous and sallow skin. All annoyed he cocks his brows and sighs: „Not to disappoint you, but this view is not an overwhelmingly new one to me. I quite know how I look like and I don't really see what you're trying to point out with this.“

 _Especially now that I'm looking even worse directly compared to you_.

„Hmmmmm“, rumbles Thor a little discouraged, absently stroking Lokis cheek with the tip of his nose. „But why's this mirror hidden, then?“

_Because I'm not the self aggrandizing type luxuriating in my own reflection – and if I were, because there's not too much to luxuriate in._

„It's not hidden. It's where I hang the large towel to dry.“ What is, to be honest, not Lokis best lie to date, but Hel, he's tired and it's just Thor, no mastermind, so this should do it for now.

That's however how wrong you can be, for again Thor won't even think of believing a syllable Loki said and instead slowly grasps him into a closest embrace once more, face bowing low to suck a kiss like fire down onto his collarbone to absolutely leave a bruise.

Loki finds himself wheeze as his vision tumbles over, pressing his eyes as shut as his poor lungs feel in Thors grip. So suddenly he's back in that panic rousing situation pressed up tight against Thors whole broad muscle front with his weak spine and his just too small, too easily abused, well, back door. Thors size lies squeezed between his buttocks now, maybe yet all soft and gentle but as calming as a sleeping predator: Thor's not as lazy as he was sitting on the floor. His kiss speaks of fervor waking anew, and already infecting his lips it probably won't take that long to crawl _down_. Loki cannot move. His heart leaps. And though his arms and legs remain free from Thors clasp Loki can't _move_ them!

_He won't hurt me._

Gods, why can't he just believe it? His throat hysterically twitches to cry out and command Thor to let him go-

_But he promised to never hurt me again._

Loki, by the Nine, just can't be sure of it. Meanwhile Thors face nuzzles into his neck to make him bow it crying craven, burning palms stroking their roads across his skin and that firm body bedding his spine like in a wall; _he's everywhere._ The mountain. Norns, the mountain. But Lokis mouth, alas, stays numb.

„Open your eyes“, Thor hums against his earlobe then. And Lokis body gives a jerk at the liquid flame of words poured out to him. He obeys, too helpless not to, finding Thors gaze in the mirror like before. And both from panic meeting his great exhaustion and that undreamed response his weary body gives to being so caressed Loki is frozen but itching to writhe. He can't decide what for his breathing almost hastens into panting, though. All Nine, he's TIRED and actually SCARED, he shouldn't be this eagerly receptive to seductions now. Yet still he feels the touches tingle under his skin. And it's already riling him that Thors fondling won't _once_ let his fingers brush a nipple - though constantly creeping him out with that battering ram shoved between his hopelessly defenseless buttocks doesn't quite seem to be a problem to the oaf. Loki gulps again, a wretched and tiny noise sliding down his pipe, and scowls at Thor for it. But it's of no use but to make Thor smile. A melancholic smile, though.

„You can't even look at yourself now that you'd see me treasure you?“

He means it well, the stupid brute. He really means to burn into Lokis conscience that he, well, can't just jump off cliffs and cut his throat. Especially now that he's _treasured_. And deep within it's even moving Loki (for he's not blushing for nothing, isn't he?). But still he needs to somehow get himself out of this. There is too much a chance for this to turn into unpleasant paths he's not willing to walk.

Then again Loki can't simply be honest and tell Thor why he's so uncomfortable. It's not even the fact that he's no big fan of looking at himself but more that Thor's but INCHES away from breaching him open to bleed all mountain-style. Thor'd just once more today be most insulted, for he MADE clear he wouldn't ever hurt Loki again (and Loki wouldn't survive losing Thors love, he wouldn't survive it, that much he knows now). Alas, how can he ever be sure of this promise? Thor is and always will be a force of nature, good intentions or not.

So he needs to change his tactics. Immediately.

This is when his eyes soften into his most innocent plea. He looks at Thor in the mirror like this, waits for his brothers face to respond with an appropriate amount of emotion, lowers his lids then, lets out a fragile sigh. And Loki turns in Thors embrace, turns to look into his real eyes now, not their reflection, his arms gently snaking around Thors neck. And Thor, though holding him still, allows him to. Loki wants to sob in relief as he feels his brothers length slide out his cleft and against his side instead. This is much better. _Much_ better. Their noses touch. And Loki finds himself suddenly able to enjoy the warmth of their closeness again, the painful echoes of the mountain and his nasty wounds vibrating out his limbs like a bad dream.

„Thor, listen“, Loki whispers, his fingers playing with curls of golden hair, „I know you only mean to help. But believe me … and I'm not lying to you now ... not a heartbeat long did I want to kill myself. And never will I try to. I promise it's true. Please don't worry so. I don't want you to worry.“

And Loki _really_ doesn't lie, he realizes. Given the fact that his words, placed sly and silvertongued at their best, somehow keep him from cutting off himself the freedom to end his life if ever he longs to (and Loki hates cutting any kind of freedom off himself) ... he does not lie to Thor. All he promises is to never _try_ to kill himself. And once he'd want to die he wouldn't just try. He'd do it.

But this, kudos to Thor for having been astoundingly clever so far, this is enough to eventually make him nod his heavy head and smile and give away into his so typical toddler-trust. He doesn't see what sweet, sweet trap he nuzzles into as he gently slings tighter around his brother once again, doesn't even smell he missed something. And Loki, closing his eyes in a torn triumph, hopes Thor won't ever have to face the true meaning of this so far cruelest of his lies.

Oh, just imagine, Loki could lie dead on the floor for Thor to find him, he could be nothing but a lifeless body and he'd still be that utmost vicious tease rubbing his brother in how he'd tricked him one more time. _I told you I wouldn't just TRY._ A last won game. His suicide all the mischief he probably was born to bleed.

Loki shivers, fingertips growing numb, as he feels the corners of his mouth actually curl his lips into one thievish and amused smile at the mere thought of this madness.

_It's just been somewhat much today. That must be it._

As if that would be soothing him he sighs and melts some more into Thors strong yet soft embrace; lunatic, yes, but no less smoochy now. Desperately smoochy.

„Alright“, Thor murmurs then against Lokis mouth before dipping a tender kiss onto it, one Loki gladly but only with weak lips kisses right back.

What is, absolutely worth mentioning, their first real kiss since Vanaheim.

Suddenly Lokis heart blows up with bliss. Oh, he'd have more of these from now on, endless more ones, every shade from mild to maenadic! So many kisses more that he's not even getting greedy now, only comforted to his very core (that there's actually something to bridle his inner wag even giggling at the thought of his own death, something worth staying alive for forever).

So much effort Thor spends on tearing Loki from the edge although it's such an easy task!

„Just promise me one kiss a day“, he slurs all lulled and lost at Thors lips, „and I'll refuse to die before I got it.“

Thor groans one astounded but very pleased purr, his breath streaming hot into Lokis mouth. And his grip tightens even more. All his muscles swell, possessive, proud. Encouraged.

_Oh._

_Oh-oh._

Loki, one heartbeat long too dizzy to realize that he should be rather scared at the sudden stir of decent flesh against his hip, sucks Thors blown out breath in with a gasp and eyes rolling away under his lids. Thor chuckles, squeezing Lokis small frame.

And then it's too late. One gushy move and Thor's got Loki flipped around to face the mirror once more, again pressed tight into Thors body. Thors _waking_ body. Loki gulps, blinking at himself one confused second long, just to feel dear old panic reach out again.

To be fair, Thor's not perfectly hard yet. And he's not squeezing his size down Lokis cleft now, only against his left buttock. But he's very much present. And very much calling back that phantom of pain spreading Lokis insides apart.

What luck Thor doesn't seem to notice Lokis terror, though. He'd absolutely hate him for it. Wouldn't he?

So there they are right back, just with slightly different (or: harder) starting conditions this time. But why? Thor's smiling. Thor's obviously happy with Lokis every reaction so far. Why is he facing that goddamned mirror again and HOW THE ACTUAL !!! did Lokis words go wrong? Thor said _alright_ , didn't he? They should be dressing now and kissing and finally leaving this cell of a bathroom for bed – to just get some sleep and nothing more!

Loki soughs and writhes, frowning to bite back hysterical tears ready to flood his sight, his hands clinging to Thors, in vain trying to loosen their grip. But dithering won't do but tighten the steel arms around his chest. Thor chuckles, stars sparkling from his unsuspecting eyes, and puts a peck to Lokis cheek all frisky. Loki glares at Thors reflection in both terror and outrage.

„Alright, brother ... yet still I think it's time you learned something about appreciation“, Thor says, only chuckling at Lokis frustrated groan. „I told you that I … treasure this“, he continues, gently clawing into Lokis body where his hands (with Lokis hands on them) reside that very heartbeat; into the gaps between his ribs, into his underbelly, one finger digging down his navel, „and you shouldn't say it's ugly. That's insulting me.“

_Oh, cheesy flattery AND guilt-tripping? Come on!_

Ever so gently, perhaps not even aware of it, Thor rolls his hips against Lokis back. There's a jerk running through the whole mass of his shaft, isn't there? Poor Loki can't but whine, lids shooting shut, his hands still clinging to Thors ... and being lead across his own body by them as they cozily start to wander. What a quite delicate, quite strange sensation: As if he's stroking himself while someone else is _touching_. Poor Loki can't but gasp. There's fire in his throat. A mellow but too tickling flame slowly crawling up his tongue. The more he tries to gulp it down the more it spreads its licking fingers out his pipe, his lungs, his stomach … only to throw out waves of sparks colliding there with that freezing fear shaking in his guts.

Like hounded Loki bites his lower lip now, mind fuming from brooding over how to finally talk himself out of this. He needs some time to concentrate, though, so he adds awkwardly and not in the slightest as relaxed as he hoped to sound: „Are you aware of the fact that you refer to me as _it_?“

Thor chuckles, teasing a playful bite into his neck, and says: „Yes, my treasure and my kingdom – and I _dare_ you say it's ugly!“

„Fine, it's _pretty_ annoyed, then.“

„How can you tell? You didn't even look!“

Gods, Loki should finally just do what Thor asks of him, vomit out some little lies and be done here – it could be so EASILY done – but Loki's starting to be REALLY annoyed now. Somehow that brute of a man left him but the choice to give into the shame of praising himself the way Thor likes it or to sulk on in the danger of his body being too deliciously explored. By hands. And lips. And, Nine behold, that prominent pressure lazily digging into his butt. Either way Loki is not amused. Either way Thor wins. How come the grinning dunce is all at once in possession of a brain?

_You're lucky, that's all._

„Have a look, Loki“, Thor begs, the tone of his rumbling voice literally smirking. Lokis lids remain sealed and locked. He only snorts in defiance.

„And then?“

„See what's mine.“ Mmmmm - they could argue about that later.

„And _then_?“

„Glorify it.“

Oh, there's that throb all through Thors length kissing the sweetest terror into Lokis flesh. It's harder, isn't it? The longer this stupid power struggle takes the more their touches seem to get Thor ready for _more_. He's harder now, he really is, and Gods, Loki doesn't want to bleed again, but if that's what he's forced to take to keep his pride, well, be it so! He will NOT be be treated like this and he will NOT obey! Let Thor prove his self control and vows to never hurt Loki again – or let him drown in tears of regret once the damage is done!

_I survived you once, I'd do it again!_

„Have me back on my knees, you brainless, but don't think you'll get me _there_ “, Loki spits, eyes darting open and right into the reflection of Thors.

„So you refuse to praise my favorite gem?“

„I do.“

„But that's like mocking what I love!“

„Mind you!“

„Don't forget that I'll be king“, Thor adds utterly playful.

Loki sneers down his nose, chin drawn higher, voice trembling only just: „So  _now_  you want to be king?" Thor ignores this dart and smiles, giving Lokis chest a squeeze to leave him actually bristle in outrage.

„Mocking the kings treasures is a crime, brother.“

„Fucking brothers is a crime!“

But Thor won't even snort at this cheap hint and only lets his hands stroke on further across Lokis naked flesh, so sure of their domain, and his fingertips caress him with their marks, melting him warm and weak, and Loki doesn't count the breaths he takes trying to keep on glaring into Thors intense and rigid eyes, forcing, _demanding_ him to give it up, to finally glance down his own reflection and to where his skin is touched with so much shameless relish. And to love that what he'd see.

When did Loki lose it far enough to submissively give in, when did he? For he doesn't even notice he did until it's already too late.

Suddenly, _finally_ , Loki stares at Thors thumb rubbing contentedly across one of his two pink nipples, slowly rolling the pearl out of it. As if the bastard waited for Loki to see.

_No, you wouldn't have the wits - !_

Fire gnawing down his thighs, flames of anger, shame and, no, nothing more, _oh no_ , Loki shoots a rough pant out his sore throat. The back of his skull feels cold against his burning face. And he can't but hiss, Thors comfortable sigh swaying gently in his ear.

„That's a sin“, the Thunderer calmly corrects his brothers last (and by now totally forgotten) statement, wholly intent on watching Lokis eyes (the blush beneath them) as they drown in that foreign dance fingered upon his body.

Lokis mind, defeated by what his eyes absorb like dreaming, is overcast. Cloudy, warm and so overcast. There was something about crimes, wasn't there? Crimes and sins and … thumbs … and nails and ... _oh_ ...

„There's no - difference“, Loki barely breathes, words halting as Thors other hand crawls down his inner thigh, pulling Lokis along to make its knuckles brush his own soft length to send a shock through its yet drowsy but, Hel damn it, almost _eager_ flesh.

It throbs out at the touch. Loki can feel it. Loki can _see_ it.

So he didn't want to admit it, no, he wouldn't ever have. But this sight of his own body being gently forced into zest is a view to hypnotize. Thors hands are nearly reverently owning him. And Loki can't look away, no matter if he's dimly aware of being most intensely studied as his facial expression slowly flees out his control. He gasps as he suddenly remembers how to breathe, chest heaving once, his stomach stretching hollow under Thors spread open fingers.

„Crimes are not as tasty as sins“, Thor hums with a smile against Lokis temple, his strong size giving even a lavish pulse deeper into the flesh already embracing it.

That press sends a hard tickle through the itching muscles of Lokis butt. And one sudden attack of weakness makes him go all vertiginous. It's that moment he feels it pulse _inside_ again, imagines to feel Thor press into _that spot_ he learned to crave for being touched even in his worst agony. He had Thors fingers there. He had _him_ there, too thumping great, too violent, but ...

As Loki tries to glance back up and meet his brothers stare (that he just _knows_ has never left him) he feels his eyeballs are not strong enough to jump that high, so he gets struck some levels lower at Thors mouth opening lush against his cheekbone for his tongue to press, not lick, just press against it.

Oh gods, no matter the pain, no matter with what, if Thor would just press _into_ him ...

A drunken sigh and Loki rolls his eyes away to end up meeting them so wide, so glassy in the mirror, his own gaze destroying him: There's no more sharp defiance left in him. No reason. He's undone. Too easily undone.

And he can't do but writhe, gently, not to break free anymore, finally giving into his captivity. There's something that, in spite of fear and pain and memories, he sadly knows he _must_ confess he needs. Something to shame and scare him more than any bruise ever beaten.

Hips moving like on their own volition Loki thrusts but slightly back into Thors dangerous but, _Norns, why_ , so tempting size. And he sees fragile lust blur the color of his eyes staring in such confusion back at him. Lust and strange regret.

How can he crave for having Thor where he knows he wouldn't bear him? How can he ache for something so impossible to him? Why can't his body yearn for something suiting it? And why, oh Nine, why can't his body suit his needs?

Distressed Loki casts his lashes down once more. No, he wouldn't watch himself shed tears for not being a girl. He wouldn't witness even more madness today.

And so his frail nerves sizzle and his every dull limb thumps. He sobs a quiet sound and Thor kisses his temple like a victor his trophy.

„I told you so. Beautiful what I've got there, isn't it? Fess up, brother.“

Loki gulps.

„Come, for me.“

„Try and force me, you won't make it.“ Because HOW dare Thor to command Loki to love himself – as he's the reason to reject his body like never before? Nine, it's not fair. They've come so far. Yet still Loki cannot be happy. Like it's not meant to be.

And Thor doesn't even seem to realize the tragic _why_.

„Oh, Loki“, Thor sighs, absently thumbing a circle round his navel, his embrace only loose now, loose but burning still. Loki soughs a weary moan, grieving the tasty hum wallowing in his body all in vain. There wouldn't ever be a letting Thor in without pain, there wouldn't be the pleasure he so yearns for.

And then, he's not even sure if Thor _means_ to, as suddenly one fingerpad brushes the heavy head of Lokis directly alert length with unexpected pressure, he yelps out, finding himself throb into one startled and long overdue curve, and he falters at the dart of lust alarming all his arching muscles, forced to slam his flat hands against the mirror and, to keep his balance, push his bum abruptly backwards. Right into what he fears and craves the most.

„Oh“, grunts Thor, hands shooting up to cage and catch Lokis ribs, knees bending to steady his stand and hips cushioning Lokis backthrust; actually a quite good reaction to the possible fall. It's just that it gave Thors thick self that hard slide back into and through Lokis cleft. A sudden friction rousing him, too, to finally really swell hard.

Their gazes meet like frozen in the mirror, both their cheeks flushed dark at once.

„What“, Thor pants, „are you doing?“

„What, I? What are YOU doing?“

„I'm coddling my love!“

„Oh, really?!“

Shame and honest concern pulls Thors face into a grimace. But even more does lust as he tries to shift Lokis weight in his lap. Loki, dead still in serious panic now, can't bring his limbs to move the shortest inch. He's but a stiff hare in a tigers yaws, waiting for his body to be mauled.

Because mauled he would be. No matter the lust he craves. He'd be torn into pieces again.

_Oh Nine, Norns, please, I take it back, please don't, please not -_

Swallowing hard Thor lets his forehead sink onto Lokis tense spine. And taking some hot breaths against his skin, bedewing it with these pants, one for each pulse racing down the length of his shaft, he gathers all the strength he needs to keep himself from any too rash movement. As he lifts up his head and faces Lokis eyes in their reflection once again his voice is husky: „I cannot have you like that, Loki. We both know that doesn't work.“

Appalled Lokis eyes widen even more – really, as if HE didn't know – but he won't even get out a curse. Instead silly tears wet his lashes. He feels his face melt in hot shame as his chin trembles like a sulky toddlers one.

„You don't say“, he eventually blubbers out, sobbing now and offended like rarely in his entire life. Thor must be thinking him the grossest slut, too horny and too eager for his every hole to be stuffed as to _know_ and _remember_ and _THINK_!

Deeply abased Loki finally feels the strength to move float back into his limbs. So he backs off, knees wobbly with fear and shame, and bites his sobs away, angry enough to smear the tears with furious fingers off his cheeks. He turns, half facing Thor now, but not looking into his eyes, and snorts the tension of felt hours out.

So, where did Thor drop the key to the recently locked door when he tried to leave earlier? It's more than high time that they finally got out of this bathroom.

„Loki“, Thor coos as he tries to meet his sulky eyes. But Loki sobs again and jerks away from the hand trying to cup his cheek and turn his face. The first step he intents to take out from between the mass of his brother and that much hated mirror won't lead him anywhere, though, as Thor stops him with one strong hand slammed flat against his chest – to then sink lower and curl gently round his ripened shaft pulsating at the delicate caress.

Loki hisses, wrings his hands and still refuses to meet Thors eyes. He wouldn't bear the wrongful pity in them now. But he doesn't have it in him to slap Thors hand aside and stomp away. Instead he feels his neck cramp low in defiance as new tears blob from his lashes to fall lonely down and hit Thors gentle fist and his own flesh where it peeps out between those fingers stroking him. He yelps at the tender impact, no more but a few drops of rain, gives a single thrust into Thors palm and clasps for support to both sides on the mirror frame and Thors shoulder.

He's quickly pulled into a hug, then, and sniffs into a chest before he even knows what's happening. The collision of his tummy with Thors stone hard size squeezed into him in a sharp angle (and that  _grunt_  next to his ear), makes him yelp, but his own length shoving its rash way between Thors legs has him almost cry out loud. Indeed, he felt the inner sides of his brothers thighs before. The mountain was not _only_ a nightmare, to be fair. And the unexpected perception of silk spanned over sunwarmed wood amazed him then and does so still.

Loki pants the sudden shudder out his dizzy body to remember if his feet are standing or … who knows what else.

„Don't cry, brother“, Thor moans into his hair, holding him close and patting his back, „I know it's tempting, but … we must be learning from mistakes.“

Only as one of Thors hands crawls down to cup Lokis buttock, thumb stroking down his cleft, he forgets about silk and wood and remembers the _actual_ matter again. And burns in a new wave of humiliation.

He should actually be relieved by how all this turned out: Even with a fledgling boner sparkling with brute force Thor seems perfectly aware of the risks having Loki from behind and thus wouldn't be all too easily abusing him anymore. But being mistaken for the one craving this madness _more_ of them is not quite flattering. It is, indeed, outraging, for wasn't it LOKI who suffered the literally bloody consequences that fatal first time? How does Thor actually think him that SERIOUSLY horny as to be such a senseless drool?

But then again … alas, Lokis body _is_ ready. For _anything_ right now.

Groaning in wild, frustrated need he struggles to push his face off Thors chest and glares venomous darts up into these stupid eyes worth being brutally plucked from their sockets: „By all means, you have not the slightest clue of what is REALLY going on here, brother!“

„Have I not?“ Thor cocks his brows, astounded and bewildered by his brothers ever changing moods.

„Of course not!“

„So … won't you enlighten me?“

„What, explain something to you? Behold! That's too much effort with too little a result.“

„But-“

„Oh, shut up“, Loki whines and slings his arms around Thors neck for support, defeated, chanceless and his pride dead, shifting while doing so and forcing up both their spines one short but strong wave of new lust. They moan like one.

„Nine, I am WAY too tired for this“, he breathlessly continues, „ … but you wouldn't stop teasing me, so endure me now.“

With eyes closed in reckless but visibly annoyed abandon Loki rolls his hips into Thors lap, slight gasps opening his mouth at every weary thrust he sends between these wooden, silken thighs.

He cannot get too far this way, though, as his lust still builds while his strength already fades. And he pants not purely from twitching desire but from bald exhaustion, too. Loki knows that. But he's bound to try. For what else is there left but that torturing urge?

As Thor stands flinching deliciously at Lokis every move his grip digs now with both his hands into the pillows of his brothers butt. There is not much that he can do but rub his by now roaring shaft against Lokis belly and support his wanton hits, it seems. Although it's strange that he's not taking over control with hungry force, his inborn dominance somehow kept back by something beyond Lokis understanding and distracted interest.

Only as Thor can't do but groan: “Nine help me, what a _sight_ you are”, only then Loki recalls the mirror probably reflecting all his working body clung to Thors, spine tensing at every blow his rhythm makes him shoot.

A stitch of shame pierces his throat. Loki breaks out in sudden sweat, one drop growing too heavy to stick to his nape and tickling down his spine through the clough between his shoulder blades, down there to dive into his cleft. Thor shouts, mouth open and voice dry from panting so harshly. Nine, he _enjoys_ this.

_So there you have me good and willing. And you don't even have to pay this whore I am._

Loki wouldn't have kissed Thor now, humiliated in his perfect shame. Yet still his sighs grow headier with bitter need from thrust to thrust. He's getting closer.

Not close enough, though. Lokis arms tremble round Thors neck, his rhythm slackens into weak attempts to keep and burst the tension. No, he won't make it like that. He coughs the next time his exhausted hips try to hit but falter. Now Thor grasps him even tighter and pulls and presses him into what he cannot do alone. Loki nearly collapses against Thors chest without even having come yet. And one moment his teeth chatter again.

That moment he feels like falling. Like but the thought of what strength he'll need to pull through this nearing climax still way too far up the mountain of lust is too much for his poor body to bear.

Then he must have missed some heartbeats of action, for somehow they stand there, both still without release, both heaving their chests, lungs greedy to be fed. But otherwise unmoving and completely still. Loki frowns against Thors skin, breath dull and taxing him.

„Loki?“

„What?“ By mere instinct he rocks his feeble hips again – or are they trembling? Thors body won't respond, however. Loki groans offended and confused.

„Brother, are you alright?“

„. … what?”

„Are you _alright_?“

„ … yes … ?“

„Yes?“

„Yes.“

A pause. And Loki realizes that his arms are dangling down his sides. Thors grip is none of passion anymore, more one of concern. And slung around his chest instead of clawed into his butt.

„Loki, I'll carry you to your bed, don't move.“

„Wha – carry me?“

„You fainted.“

„I what – no! I didn't!“

„You drooled on my chest and I saw but the whites of your eyes!“

As Thor wants to heave him up Loki fights it grimly: „Don't be stupid, I can walk alone“, and, backing off like half a step, he proves exactly so. A little shaky, a little too much out of breath, but still. „See?“

Thor frowns, not very sure, his face so flushed and resonating with a lust interrupted far too soon. „But you fainted!“

„Nonsense“, Loki exclaims, for, really, he didn't faint, he would have noticed if he did! And being carried to his bed like – no, somewhere's a stop to humiliation. Goosebumps crawl out his skin as he feels it abruptly chill down, sticky with sweat now freezing him. Yet there it hammers in his veins, that fire not extinguished still. He swallows down a wave of giddiness as his body actually mistakes the cool air around for an all consuming touch.

„But I saw-“

„You saw me drool and roll my eyes! And what were we doing the instant I did? Draw your own conclusions, oaf!“

Somehow Loki almost starts to cry again, confused and suddenly so _angry_. But he throats all tears down. His panting, though, won't stop the race, nearly making him hyperventilate.

Of course Thor's anything but appeased by this. His frown just deepens his worry lines. But he only carefully grabs for Lokis shoulders (and this Loki allows), just in case he suddenly fell.

So they stand and breathe for a while, calm down, all to decide to let their eyes sink to the floor. Forehead against forehead they sigh.

Then with one of his upper legs Thor gently shoves his way between Lokis thighs, almost like making him ride it, to brush the base of that slim but demanding length still solid with need. Loki hisses, of course he does, his hips responding with a weak dodder to the touch, searching for something more; almost his fragile tip brushes the strong of Thor looming so close.

Thor gulps and sucks his tongue (Loki can hear the tiny sounds) as if his mouth suddenly watered watching their lusts so tight and untouched there.

„Say I care for this in bed”, he grumbles and licks his lips fraught with sweet meaning, “would you do me the favor and rest if I did?“

“Lean back and let you suck?”

“Mhmmm?”

“And yours?”

“I have a pair of fists, brother.”

“So all back to the roots?”

“Just what we do.”

Loki chuckles. He's so very, very tired. And almost ready to be _however_ nursed as long as there's no pain. Thor smiles, outshining every sun of July. Lokis face must be betraying him. Or the helpless, feeble rub his hips ride on his brothers thigh.

“Bed, then?”, Thor suggests.

“I will not be carried.“

„But caught if you fell?“

„I won't fall.“

„But if?“ Thor lifts his knee and tickles one more sigh from Lokis mouth. A sigh and his capitulation.

„Hel, yes, whatever.“

And so they're settled.

That very instant, however, Thor wants to lean in for a sweet and promising kiss (Loki already tilts his head to receive it) the Thunderer glimpses something of sudden and high interest standing on one of some tiny marble shelves right next to the great mirror. And a thought seems to cross his mind that hits him like Mjolnir itself.

Loki, directly sensing the sudden concentration of his brothers attention, follows his gaze and breathes: „What? What is it?“

Thor hesitates some heartbeats long and uses them to gulp and lick his lips and stare at a small, shattery phial without blinking.

„What?“ Loki's unsettled now and wide awake again, weakness frightened aback by fear. As Thor glances back down at him he does with an even pinker blush. But he reaches out for the tiny bottle nonetheless.

„That oil”, he starts, “Sif uses some very similar one to slather her body. For smoother skin. Do you use that?“

„No“, Loki lies, taken completely off guard, „no, I don't even know who put it there.“ Oh darn, rookie mistake in cunning! Shame makes him gulp at Thors knowing smirk. Well, it's no crime for men to have dry elbows, is it? It's no crime to do something against that! But oh shit, Lokis face already burns. He scowls at Thor for his own mistake.

Thor, however, is too busy to notice, examining that golden fluid shimmering in the glass. Then he clears his throat, but his voice comes out somewhat sheepish nonetheless: „Would you … let me try out something if I promised to immediately stop once you told me?“

Loki narrows his eyes, deeply suspicious. What is this back and forth, changing of minds? What about _bed_ now? Somehow Thor's not half as eager to throw Loki into his sheets anymore, totally absorbed by something drowning out every bit of concern he had regarding his poor fainting brother only moments ago. And anyways, what about that _oil_?

„Alright“, Loki mumbles, acting like not yet sure but benevolent. It's not like he doesn't already have a plan to talk himself out of this ( _really_ this time), whatever _this_ might in the end turn out to be. Thor generously gave him the perfect chance to do so in the end.

„Good“, says Thor, his smile too happy and excited as he plops the phial open, „I promise to stop whenever you ask me to.“

„Then“, Loki purrs, eyes suddenly twinkling mischievously, „stop it.“ And if this is no revenge for his last lie gone wrong!

Thor gasps in unhappy surprise: „But I didn't even start!“ He only gets chuckled at and his cheek patted, though.

„You made the rules, not I.“

One moment he actually champs with childish rage, his nostrils blown wide. He's just too _bound_ , the idiot. Exactly like Loki expected.

As Thor gives Lokis lap one angry thrust to make him yelp and almost lollop on this cursed delicious knee still spreading his thighs – well, _this_ Loki did not expect.

“You are INDEED alright, just like you said”, Thor grumbles sulkily, “I am worried and you play games! But if you're fit enough for tricks you're fit enough to try this out as well!”

This. Okay. Loki shudders, both from screeching pleasure and alarm. High time to take a closer look at the actual definition of THIS as Thor's not seeming to let himself be warped from it: While it's got something to do with oil and definitely much with Loki … ? Wait. Didn't Fandral tell Thor how men sleep with men? Didn't he tell him they ease their ways before stomping each others orifices? With OIL for example?

Oh, dear Gods, Thor just changed his mind about learning from mistakes and _not_ taking Lokis butt and – Nine, he'll try to OPEN him for his leg sized thing! As if some slickness made him any smaller! Oil a goat, the stallion still won't fit!

The instant, however, that Loki runs into serious danger of whiting out Thor already hauls him back into his chest, strong arms crossing behind his slim back, leaving the caught fish no way to flounder out this angry hug. Although the hard collision of their bodies pumps a brute flash through their loins (and they yelp) they both won't be distracted enough to give more than a few accidental thrusts before directly being alert again.

“Brother, you're breaking a promise here”, Loki squeals in Thors grip, voice hoarse and pitched high in hysteria. His knees growing weak he slips down Thors leg for at least one hands length.

„I'm not, it stopped being valid the instant you cheated. And you will give this a try now, no whining!“

“But you promised to - !!!”, _never hurt me again!_ They're totally talking about different things, though.

“NO whining!”

Loki sobs and chokes on his own spittle in his raving fear. Thor's got him coughing and blinking like a fool.

“Shh-shhhhh … ”, Thor coos and presses a kiss against his scalp, “you'll like it, love. Don't be ashamed of what you need. Now calm, brother, calm down.”

_Yes, sure, because bleeding from my butthole is my greatest desire. And LOVE?_

“Thor, please-”

“You'll _like_ it, Loki.”

“Like WHAT? What are you-uh – HU!” Okay, so there's the oil poured out into his cleft. “Three Norns, you dirty me up, you sow! Leave that immediately!” Thor grunts as Loki puts up one last desperate fight.

But there is only more fluid running down his gap (and his thighs, and, Hel, his balls, and the under side of his prick). Thors grip grows even firmer. And as Loki gets punched out of breath by that enormous shaft pumping into his stomach, wilder with each jerk he does, as there is a row of thrusts set loose from Thors hips suggesting only the mere idea of what storms would hit him soon enough Lokis eyes widen and he suddenly knows better than to move even the slightest inch more.

So if he's after ALL not meant to escape then at least he should try to keep Thor as gentle as possible, shouldn't he? Maybe it wouldn't hurt too bad then. Maybe the oil would even help a tiny bit, maybe … and Thor would touch his spot once inside, wouldn't he? Maybe Loki could even - gods, he doesn't even dare to _think_ it – maybe he could enjoy this … maybe it would be beautiful.

_It won't. Of course it won't._

But there is no way out of this. He can't refuse, he cannot risk insulting Thor. He will NOT risk losing his love! If he's to choose between his body or his heart broken, oh, so be it his body. That he'd survived once, hadn't he?

If only there wasn't that cold sweat forming on his temples!

Thor rubs his size a handful of times more into his brothers skin, his grunts so hard from trying to regain composure. But then he's still again and sighs.

“Good, Loki.” He pats his brothers back for being perfectly motionless now.

„It's rather cold“, Loki pules at his cleft being perfectly sodden. Not that it really is. That's just his silvertongue hysterically flipping over. The oil and what it promises is actually terrifying, but not really cold.

“Don't be so fractious”, Thor hums as he tries out loosening his iron clasp, sighing all content once more as he finds Loki won't dither to break free.

Loki gulps with a pathetic sound. Thors hands move on his back. One up to gently cage his skull and fondle his hair, the other down to slowly slide between his buttocks, gliding in so easily.

“Oooh … ”, Thor moans as if his sturdy length just entered a maidens tight fold, not like his fingers are crawling down his brothers very male bumcrack. Hips rocking up against Lokis tummy once more he takes his time to smear the side of his hand down and back up and savour the slickness seeming to suggest the wildest fantasies to him.

Loki gasps, out of a sudden so dismayed, exposed and hurt inside, so much abased for this most feminine association; it rouses him in both erotic and so doleful manners. He is no girl, he'll never be. Then why's he sad and not insulted by Thor perceiving him as one?

As he feels a trail of hot leak smudged across his stomach Loki grabs for Thors hips, his hands stiff with dread.

This is one of these moments Loki's _really_ aware of how big Thor is. He feels his heart leap up his throat, ready to be puked out and RUN.

He should try and grasp for this monstrous shaft, he suddenly thinks, should milk Thor as fast as he can, make him come before it's too late - ! But Loki can't, all his veins tingling terribly for he knows he won't dare to save himself. The thought of touching it makes it too _real_ and drills a shrieking sound into his ears. No, Loki won't, he can't. He had it everywhere inside, his butt, his mouth, but simply taking it into his hands seems to absurdly be too much. He can't.

Instead his faithless body backstabs him and _responds_ , searching to bury his own and very needy flesh in the silken comfort of his brothers lap again. As he guiltily rides his way up that muscular thigh he whines with lust and hates himself. But he won't reach his dearly needed stash.

Thor startles him by pulling a fistful of his hair to force his face up, a little too brute, and feasts his greedy eyes on the pleasure convulsing Lokis face; his cleft still worked, his tiny entrance eagerly fingered for. Loki shoots out a moan at not getting his tip to just clash into the mercy of a touch. And Thor leans in for a luscious kiss, too tempted by that open mouth to not lick into it and drink it like a chalice.

As Thor finds the small ring of a muscle he lets his fingertips knead it urgently. And Loki yelps at once and breaks away from their kiss, eyes wide, though not a single digit spreads him open yet. If it did, though, Gods, he is a _cramp_. Even a culm would feel too much right now!

“Calm, brother”, Thor hushes once again, placidly pulling Loki back to just kiss on, now synchronizing his fingerpushes with his kissing rhythm. And Loki can't but kiss him back, his mind spiraling round itself. For all the fear destroying him, he _must_. Maybe, with luck, he'd really faint now. There's a sob in his mouth. But it's swallowed with a cozy slurp.

“ … this oil, it's, mmmmh”, Thor groans between his mellow nips and gulps, “ … it's even … smoother ... smoother than Cowards Brew … Loki, you'll _love_ this … calm now, don't shy … it's only me … ”

A little late (but he's been quite distracted, so) Loki stands frowning under Thors rich kiss.

 _Cowards Brew?_ That morning Thor nursed Loki with Cowards Brew there were but two fingers in serious action. So this is a reprise of _that_? Thor does _not_ intent to sledge his deathly sword of flesh inside? A fingerjob? That's all?

 _Upsadaisy … ? I just got you wrong again or what?_ Loki suddenly halts at his brothers mouth, even the last anxious response tickled from him brought to a stop.

One heartbeat they look into each others eyes.

So there's NO need to be afraid? No blood, no pain, no terrifying being torn open in sight?

_You don't even want me like … ?_

Loki blinks. Thor smiles and bumps his forehead against his, breath burning, and leans down to nibble the tip of his nose. And Loki, stricken SO BAD by surprise, can't but giggle, round tears plopping out of his unbelieving eyes.

Of course Thor doesn't want him like a girl. For Loki is no girl, never would be. Thor doesn't want to hurt him.

Then why, ungrateful, twisted heart, why's Loki feeling his relief is shadowed by insane rejection?

Loki slugs, bites his lips and blinks the madness down. _No, I am thankful. Very thankful._

“May I now, brother?”, Thor rumbles, the pad of his middle finger gently squeezing down Lokis inlet (that suddenly pulses with a wild, hard memory of pain at the penetration – but he won't be hurt, the Nine be praised, a finger wouldn't make him bleed).

Loki hisses, still trying to just _realize ..._

“I'm curious to find that pleasure button of yours again, you know … “

… just realize that whatever is next will be alright and - wait. Stop.

“My _what_?”

“That spot”, Thor explains, “that made you go wild, remember? I didn't quite get it first, but you grew _hard_ from it, so - ”

“But my _pleasure button_? Really?”

Thor frowns at Lokis sudden repulsion. “Shall I say butt button?”

“We're NOT giving them names, Thor!”

“Hu?”

“Our body parts. Just no.”

“Alright, alright … but would you please relax, yes, I am trying to get in! You're tense.”

Loki wails at Thor, helpless and overwrought and stubborn even now, suddenly not so sure if he wants this at all, this abasing imitation of what he'll always be denied, no matter his relief (and secret yearning), but his every limb buzzes with giddy need in such erratic waves. And as his heart thuds out his head swims so! There IS no other way but to sink down against this so familiar chest with all his weight again. Once more today Loki slings his arms around Thors neck. And as Thor gently purrs Loki closes his eyes. Behind his lids he knows the world starts spinning.

It's just been somewhat much today.

“Right so”, Thor coos and steadies Lokis posture with his free hand pressed into the small of his back.

A heartbeat they don't move. And then Thors finger sinks in with a sludgy ease too beautiful to be true, at least two phalanxes deep. Loki gasps harshly, but it doesn't hurt, it really doesn't. It's just the pure intimacy, the blush breaking heaven of a touch – Thor didn't even find his spot, but, it's ridiculous, it's SO intense. And good. Good.

Loki exhales a slow, high sound that he'd be totally ashamed of if it was for other circumstances.

“Does that … does that hurt?” Thor's awkwardly still for the way his shaft jerks at the sapid slide his finger was just granted.

Loki shakes his head, he can't find the word _no_ , it's nowhere, nowhere, and he doesn't know why but he kisses Thors collarbone with awestruck lips as finally a subservient gratefulness really overwhelms him whole. There's just no blood and no pain, isn't that SPLENDID?

“No wonder I hurt you so on the mountain”, Thor breathlessly ponders and chuckles at Lokis quivering joy, carefully feeling the sentient flesh clenched tight around him, “you're having a needle eye here!”

He's quite creative today, isn't he? Pleasure button and needle eye?

“You're giving them NAMES, Thor”, Loki wails, raising but one cozy and amused laughter.

He won't have that much breath left for wailing any further from now on, however, as Thor's only just getting started: With a groan he bucks his hips again, making Loki feel the enormous dimension of his relish once more, and moves his leg to tease another ride from Lokis lazy lap. And as he tries to slide his finger out and take a run for his next thrust he yelps out loud, exclaiming: “My, you _suck_ on it!”

Loki's directly blushing pink and hit by jolts electrifying all his guts. But shedding shame the very instant that it drowns him Loki growls deep in his throat. He glares up at Thors all at once lustlamed face and challenges him to go on. There's no turning back now. If this is what he's offered then he'll take it. One intense look and Loki commands his brother to _hit that goddamned button already._

Thor will not be asked twice.

As he digs his smeary finger in again he grunts and shoves his length along Lokis stomach, all the same movement, strength pulsating through his every limb. Loki coughs at he hit and throws his head back. There's a tasty rush darting into him like boiling _steam_. Nine, he's both frightened and excited at how much he's sensitive in this so shaming chamber of his body. Every inch of inside skin kissed by a foreign touch makes him want to carouse! But again Thor didn't find his most craving spot. Nor does he the next time, or the next. Or the next. Loki's like being readied just to be left starving. The pressure knotting up in him is really, really cruel.

Thors hips, meanwhile, buck stronger with each wet breath taken between them. It's a sheer wonder they still stand with a pace and speed like that. They're jerking flames, squirming in firestorms.

“Gods, DO it”, Loki shouts in harsh frustration, his body dithering from fruits of pleasure ready and ripe to JUST be plucked and enjoyed, but a tiny torturing bit out of reach. Rolling his hips astraddle Thors leg won't do it for him now, that's just not it, not the push that he needs. While grinding him sore the friction won't be enough to please him whole. But he doesn't dare to risk a violent grab down around himself to finish by the mens tradition, no matter if he's _itching_ to by now. They are too rough on the ride, he'd make them stumble in the end. And fall. And break a bone or two. And anyhow, Loki wants his spot touched urgently now, so much he actually means to _feel_ it pulse and weep for one hard hit to kill him (over and over again). If he'd end out without it relished he'd be stricken hard by chagrin!

Anyways, Thor himself is close to leak once more, if not already close enough to _come_. So why this silly, cruel delay?

“It's deeper”, Thor grunts, “than I thought. I don't get there from this angle, and, NINE, are you tight!”

“YOU made me want this, now don't you DARE to disappoint me!”

“I'm trying-”

“Then try MORE!”

Loki doesn't quite know what he's demanding until he reads it plainly mirrored in his brothers stunned but very much impressed, proud eyes. Thor stills one moment like charging all his force for his next blow, Loki scampering on his thigh (desperately trying to climb up and hit into his lap but always sliding down again). Dark with desire Thor slowly nods his head and grins.

“You dirty, wild, impatient thing! I'll _give_ you more, brace yourself, more that you can handle!”

Now this is Lokis turn to freeze. His eyes widen. And he doesn't know if he's excited or terrified again. But there's no doubt to it, he'll absolutely get what he asked for.

Gasping aloud his whole frame jerks as Thor decides it's time to introduce a second finger to the game. Now this _did_ quite hurt him a bit. The glide was no less smeary than the first, it's just the suddenly doubled _strain_ that bites him so. He feels his inlet throb inconsolably at the mean and unexpected stretch. But he clenches brave around the new intruder, trying to welcome it home. His ears ring as his heart beats one aria through his veins.

It's Thor who moves again first, slowly, testing, but already enjoying what he does. Sliding his fingers back and forth like one solid tool he laxes Loki into his rhythm once again, but a heavy and sluggish one this time, even intensifying the sensation of touches so peeled out of haste. And Loki opens for him, slackens wide enough to let him deeper now, knuckles digging into his threshold as he charily grinds back around them.

“Is that better, little sin?”, Thor moans against Lokis sweat coated forehead, sinking, _bucking_ into a trance it seems. Lokis breaths are pants, all with at least one tiny sound. And all the rolls his hips perform leave his spine quiver. His tongue tastes flaring amber at each thrust.

But still Thor will not reach him _there_. Not yet. Although he's really trying, must be said, his every hit massaging Lokis walls, all sides, searching, digging, spreading him to get further in. Alas, two fingers don't seem to suffice, Lokis throbbing tunnel is too narrow still for Thor to arrive at his tasty destination with a wrist bend like this. And thus there's a third pushing in, it's just necessary, with one squelching wet noise too _body_ not to be delicious. Thor coughs, his fleshy spear bobs hard and leaks against his brothers plexus.

Loki in turn grimaces and lets out one foxish roar as, Gods, it's aching, both from pain and greedy pleasure, BUILDING up, but STILL won't be enough, better but far from best. It's not enough. It's still not _there_. Something's really amiss with this, something's just got to happen now!

But that what follows he would not quite have expected, not like this at least.

Thor spreads his fingers like a fan, widening Lokis way to form the forgery of a maidens slick lipped, willing fold. And Loki bites his tongue, sobbing in shock, tastes blood. And fears his knees to give away under his weight, not even for the pang cramping through the frame of his entrance but for his earnest _pining_ after this perverse sensation, his manhood, twisted fate, thrumming in a way he never felt before at the sick and suddenly _really_ too strong desire to have been born a girl.

He hides his face, his shame, his sudden tears in Thors strong neck and wails. Wails out piteously. But his responding body he cannot hide, his inlet and his walls clenching so eagerly and needy, pressing Thors fingers tight together again, sucking them like the teat of pain, of lust, of _ache_. Thors shaft grows heavier, he thinks, and even greater at his belly.

_Nine, take me like a girl, make me your whore, I've never been a good man anyways!_

With hips growing voracious now Loki almost makes Thor falter under his sudden rampancy even terrifying himself. He's too fast, he's too wild, but he cannot stop his raving body twitching only more with every sting of pain he rocks into himself. These three fingers really seem to hit on his edge (and they _sting_!), but STILL they will not open him enough to reach his desperate center of need and just _unleash_ it all. A gush of fire spurts out his bobbing tip, dribbling down Thors muscular leg, but it won't ease the agony of hunger plaguing him. Instead he feels it gross him out, as if his body was not natural to him. He yelps and meets his brothers glassy eyes (too blue, too blue), and moans, his voice broken, adrift, outright _begging_ for help, for anything to end this madness.

“That's it”, Thor cries with bliss, “that's it, Loki”, and pulls him into a deep kiss, mistakenly believing himself home. His fingers eagerly press down one spot of Lokis inside that's just not _the_ spot. Loki jerks, head falling back, and gargles with dizziness and angry tears. Thor licks his jawbone like a candy, groaning again: “That's it, brother-”

“It's NOT, you dork”, Loki shoots out, “it's … AH!”

“What?”

“You're not _there_!”

“WHAT?”

Loki whimpers. They both still, terribly gasping for air, but Thor too perplexed and Loki too exhausted to thrust anymore.

“I thought it's-”

“No, it's not!”

“Then, BY the Nine, where IS it hiding?”

There's no response but one more badly ailing groan escaping Lokis mouth. His lids, heavy with sweat, fall close and darkness slugs him, dense and brewing. No more words.

_Mercy._

Lokis arm lie numb around Thors neck, his hips quiver with weakness. The air he breathes is cool but he feels flames smothering him. And, vicious Norns, Thors fingers are SO close to his salvation. And that shaft digs boasting wild with size and force into his stomach, giving pumps at every Lokis drowning gasps, at every heave and fall of his poor chest, and slicks his skin and hums _I would have whipped you where you crave it._

“Brother”, Thor coughs, “brother, breathe calm, you – AH, dear GODS!”

Loki distantly realizes that he's probably just making Thor come with but his pitiful attempts to save himself from suffocating. But he doesn't care. He only rocks his hips again, now truly desperate, but Thors fingers still won't stab him and the sweaty glide licking no more but the bottom line of his curve will not _ever_ suffice. If only he could make it high enough to press his untouched tip into Thors hipbone! But that's too far up, too high for him to reach. He rides Thors leg and his slick hand with hysterics nonetheless, his mind falling away into one horrid trip of urgency. He squeals with panting but he cannot _breathe_. And there are grunts and howls shot at his face blowing just more fire into his lungs.

Then, somehow, Loki can't even yelp, he's grabbed with unreal force and reeled around. And thrashed into one beautifully ice cold surface nearly cracking under him. Shouting at the unexpected sensation Loki greeds a breath in and feels finally really fed again. The fever cools inside his skull, at least a tiny bit, the smoke clears off and trails out of his lungs and Loki reams himself into this most delicious cold, licks it, drinks it, caresses it. His pulsing shaft weeps floods of gratefulness at the touch of this cooling balm, smears them across its frosty bliss. Eyes rolling open he glimpses the blurred reflection of a face and wonders who's kissing him there beneath the surface of this gorgeous, frozen lake. He moans out of an open mouth, fogging the foreign kisser in white mist.

Then there's a comet (Thor) hitting the ground right next to him and Loki jerks at the impact nearly crushing his shoulder. He thrusts his hips out of the way as he feels a burning pressure milling itself against them. A vicious, hand sized spark bites with brute force into his buttock. At this his eyes spring open. And then, all at once awake again, Loki finds himself back in Asgard, in his private bath, smacked against his full body mirror like a frog, Thor panting close beside him, leaned whole weight down on his side.

His eyes flying to quickly absorb this new situation Loki finds his brother buck his spear into one of his own claws. That fleshy head swooping back and forth is swollen up to the size of a childs fist by now and with every thrust almost touching its brutal reflection. And himself Loki finds smudged white with leak and actually thrumming against the image of his own so thirsty shaft, creating the perfect illusion of a most intimidating caress (because it's so impossible). He wails at this sight, spine growing wings at such tasty absurdity, and can't but jerk as he sees both his headslits bubble out new drops of leak, kissing them into one another.

That same heartbeat he feels his inlet down his naked backside clench at nothing, and, alarmed, sucking for something that it somehow lost. He's open but he's empty. Thor must have slid his fingers out to flip him over and throw him into the wall.

He meets his brothers glare, and it's intense, as Thor leans his forehead against the mirror, too, against his own so heavy, heavy skull, just like Loki his lips and cheek. Thors body is a hill, his muscles like rocks shaken by earthquakes. Loki has never seen him quiver, almost _burst_ with strength like this. One distant part of him knows that he should be scared. He can't but stare at this monster, _plea_  at this monster for, oh, he doesn't know what for, his life, his death, tongue absently dipping at the mirrors soothing cold again.

A leer splits Thors red lusted face. And only as this hand, the smeary one still warm from Lokis body, slithers down his glistening cleft again it's clear what was the spark biting into his buttock. Fingertips tease their way in circles round a pulsing hole twitching, _begging_ at the lightest caress.

Loki whines and bucks into the tease, his shaft slithering off the mirror with a tiny but terribly ridiculous squealing sound.

Thor growls. And as he thrusts back into that door lying so beautifully opened there he finally treads in, and _really_ in, digging with Mjolnirs force down Lokis hidden sprout of lust, one strike aiming and hitting hard.

Writhing into the image of himself tears water Lokis eyes. Mouth flying open he downright _neighs_. Oh, there it goes, there comes the graceful flare licking him clean inside from pressure and from pain, a tide so pure filling his limbs down to his toes and up the very roof of his skull. This is what he wanted, this is what he craved! Lokis skin is a net woven tightly and where the tiny meshes meet he feel the kiss of heaven.

Thor releases his hard dip from Lokis slicky, throbby flesh inside and makes him yelp, bewildered by the loss – _don't go_ – only to push back harder, pleasing a deliciously exulting mew from his brothers throat. Loki's a squirming rag doll, promptly blind and deaf to anything but _more of this,_ and bucks his bum with shameless zeal into Thors fingers to have their blissful blasts even faster, even mightier. Every blow he takes makes him sigh in such relish that he sings.

He sings some thirteen notes until the heavens burst above his head; earsplitting is their sudden roar. Loki, pressing his chest even harder into the mirror, throws his head back as his hips arch out to extremes, drilling one final stab into his body that's so willingly giving in under it. He cries into that bursting overhead, crescent of the moon that he is. And Loki spurts his all towards himself, the swashes meeting at the mirrors surface with the sound of water, and his boiling whites, spawns of his sins, pour down along each other.

But the heavens didn't roar alone, no, that was _Thor_. As Lokis quivering, spent body is yet jerking out the final flares Thors paws grasp him by the hips and pull him to his side with hungry violence. Loki gasps, only just finding back into reality, and somehow manages to roll away and over into facing the mirror again; he glimpses the rushing reflection of his hopelessly needy brother jumping right behind him, positioning himself at - !

“THOR”, Loki shouts, eyes wide as he examines that muscle of a man towering high and _close_ behind him, shaking with urgent thunder too long held back from exploding. Their eyes meet but one heartbeat long, they show Thors wildest gaze contorted with raving want and serious regret,  _forgive me,_  ... and Lokis plain approval of the inevitable; the blood, the pain. _The mountain._

Thors bloated tip licks into Lokis inlet and it barely fits, no matter how he's stretched by now. None of them dry, oil meeting leak, it all feels terrifyingly _possible_ but one instant long – yet Loki gulps like facing death. His vision thumps, there are black spots and piercing sparks. Thors eyes roll under his red lids and, oh, his animal of a chest rises and falls like a volcano pumping up its innermost destruction.

So in the end there is no stopping this.

They should have known.

 


	27. Glimpse

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> SHORT-ONE-ALERT!!!
> 
> Okay. It's no real chapter. But I wrote this. And I just decided you need this now and not whut WHO knows when I'll finish writing what more I'm planning at this point. And as I'm planning to switch to Thors POV after this anyways ... and we all crave to know how Loki's doing, don't we? Nah?? Yes ...
> 
> But be warned, this one's a teensy bit violent. Don't let yourselves be triggered here.

 

 

 

There is not much that Loki's meant to witness from this direst of moments on. Although it seems enough to totally burst the little span of time that's actually containing it.

One violating thrust and Thor's inside with a shattering groan. His helpless body thrown ahead Loki bangs his face into the mirror that he means to feel his very skull crack (but that wasn't him, it was the mirror) and he can't but cry, no, scream, impaled and in the end breached open that very way he'd hoped to never be again.

There's pain. There really is. Such pain as strong as to numb ones mind down to no more but the fear of not surviving it. Thor's in as deep as he can go. And he's a monster of a size, an uncontrollable, unconscious force. Exactly like Loki recalls him to be.

Dear Nine, it's just all back. One heartbeat Loki really smells the cold, dark rocks again, the chalk they aired. He feels the burning _chill_.

 _It won't be long, he's close, it won't be long,_ he frantically repeats to himself, breath short and weeking, and wonders how he's even _thinking_ now. How he's actually thinking to make himself believe such childish hopes.

Oh yes, Thor's close. The first of Hel knows how many times.

Loki blinks, his lashes wings of a fly caught in the spiderweb, and feels into his body to search between all the sudden cramps for the searing hot edges of this foreign, iron object slicing him apart; it's shoved up at least one third of his spine, if not even deeper (but Loki doesn't dare to just imagine), suppressing his guts, taking its regal place with _such_ compelling force.

_Like a king._

Loki coughs as the tears he didn't know he wept run into his mouth and make him choke. And Thor, bruising his hips with his deep grip, slides out and leaves the inside flesh he ruptured throb just more at the sudden release of the cruelty it didn't even yet _really_ grasp was done to it. But he's back faster than his victim can squeal out, and Lokis body squirms at the second shot. Scratching the mirror with his fingernails he wants to vomit by the sound his inlet slicks at being so abused; as if he couldn't wait for more.

Thor's downright galloping into his pace now, every pant groaning less human. Like a rutting boar he uses Loki riotously and yanks his hips to clash into his own at every thrust he sets inside, shoving them off whenever his weapon needs half a slide out. He's so completely gone, no word would reach him now. No plea for being at least a _tiny_ bit slower to grant Loki the chance to somehow adjust, let alone the hopeless wish for gentleness.

Yet still this is a somewhat different situation to the nightmare on the mountain. Loki's not hopelessly pressed into the ground now. He can move. At least a little bit. Even if only his chest as his hips are under the control of a greater force, Thors blind and angry hunger, but he _can_ arch his spine, stretch or curl his stomach. He can meet the blows. He can lead and cushion them. Soften their violence.

And the oil - it _does_ help. Dear Realms, it's a sheer wonder, but it does. Once it's smeared up all Lokis tunnel and Thors size (more, smoother, every blow) there's no dry spot on that horrible club anymore to stick, to rasp, to literally shred Loki inside. Norns, it's a wonder!

The first really smooth hit Loki takes makes him yelp with relief, leaving him tingle, worn but no more hurting now. Thors skull falls heavy on his shoulder and a groan flames down his spine as he feels these beastly hips judder themselves even closer against his spread pressed buttocks.

Loki writhes around his brothers forcing flesh and, without pain now, feels it inch for inch, still digging deeper. The diameter of this muscle is _immense_. He yelps because, _gods_ , this is the real madness, this is _in his belly_ , and he finds himself quite overchallenged by such an absurd sensation, no way to slip into lust himself now. But he's downright gleeful that the hurt is gone at last.

And so full of someone else invading, no, almost _replacing_ him, Loki's all at once nearly too eager for giving the domain of his body up and away. He doesn't dare to love this yet. But it shudders like a triumph. Yes, it does. So in the end he IS able to bear it! And a tiny secret bit he's proud like flying.

The very instant there's that sudden urge to leave himself, his flesh an empty house open to just be conquered and indwelled, oh Loki wants to make whatever room his brother needs inside of him, may it oust him completely. Yes, Thor is there. And Loki takes him, lets himself be taken by assault.

Thor bucks away, takes a strong run for his next shot, licks Lokis shoulder with a heavy tongue and moans. His swollen flesh slips out until no more but his hard tip remains inside. He's rushing it, the desperate greeder. But Loki feels it in slow motion: He gasps as his body sucks itself shut around the loss, prickling in terrific anticipation of being had like this again, completely and completely painless.

Thor grunts. The tension owning him sizzles like jolts from his skin. His grip claws even harder down Lokis hips, ready to wrench them onto the impact of his size once more.

And out of a sudden one delirious idea blasts Loki like a vision. It's insane and way too silly, an outright anatomical joke, _impossible_ but … _oh_ … Loki _knows_ if Thor'd thrust but one tiny inch deeper, only a little higher now, he'd absolutely brush the bottom of his heart.

And this. This is too much.

The world blurs out and softens all around. Loki doesn't get the next blow set on edge. A final glimpse of reality he catches is the reflection of two weary lidded, blissful eyes (green eyes) looking from a broken mirror back at him.

He doesn't hear himself moan.

 


	28. Ashore at last

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> LET'S JUST HAVE SOME MONUMENTAL SEX AGAIN, PLEASE.  
> And yes, I really suck at plot since at least four chapters or so. But the brothers shall get their fill as long as they can. There's a new drama building up. The final drama. And monsoons of Loki tears MUAHHHHHAHAHAH.
> 
> I can't believe I spent a year and 3 days on this, btw. This needs to find an end. Somehow.

 

 

There is not much that Thor missed from this direst of moments on. But it seems more than enough to make him come to his senses with a literally bloodcurdling shock.

It's that delicious final jerk his body strikes into the paradise ahead melting him into well known floods of final pleasure. Yes, it's that moment that he feels like having stepped into the very fire of the sun, his vision turning a flare yellow but a heartbeat, his muscles pouring lava, his mouth giving a sound he doesn't recognize his own. It is that very moment Thor falls hoarsely panting with all his weight onto a body under his own, a slinky, smooth skinned pillow to soften his heavy slump against the wall; it's then that he glimpses something red. And something sharp. And Lokis hair tangled face pressed into it.

Thor startles with a yelp and darts aback to stand only on his two own trembling feet again, releasing himself from the tiny, naked form of his brother.

_Loki._

Oh dear Nine, Thor fucked him into the mirror and it cracked and now there's blood on the level of his eyes!

Thors heart, still thumping wildly from coming high, sinks down his guts in a far too familiar, far too terrible way. He woke from bliss to such horrors before!

“Brother”, he coughs high pitched from fear as he grasps Lokis shoulders and picks him out of the wall. “Brother, say something, please!” He slings one arm around him to keep his boneless limbs from collapsing to the ground. Some mirror shards clatter down there like pieces of ice.

Loki lets out a sleepwrecked sigh as his spine bumps against Thors chest; he's unconscious again. Gods, he fainted. Again! Thors pulse bites iron cold through his veins as he, one-handed, hurries to lift his brothers lolling head and free his face from all the thick, black curls clinging to it.

“Are you hurt, brother? Did I hurt you?”

No reply.

_Oh Gods._

Thor definitely sees blood between the flicks of hair.

_Oh GODS._

Then what his fevered paw reveals sends tears to the Thunderers eyes.

It's nothing.

 _Norns, let me kiss your toes!_ There's just that itty bitty cut, not even deep, that must have opened Lokis lower lip. And lips bleed hard, so much Thor knows from sparring. It's possibly not even from a shard, maybe Loki just bit himself. Oh, oh it's nothing, NOTHING! Nothing ... but my, is Loki pale with that red gushed down his chin!

Imagine, there could have been shards dug into his eyes. He could be _blind_. Imagine shards slitting open his throat. He -

Thor chokes on his own spittle at the mere thought and sobs, icy shivers running down his back, as he tugs Loki close, his suddenly hammering head falling down into raven hair. He groans his great, great terror out, trying to just keep standing (what's terribly hard right now, wobbly and spent as his muscles dodder in the aftershocks of both his best and worst emotions experienced almost at the very same time – and with a Loki not in the least able to stand on his own).

“Loki”, he huffs, the name a mantra to him now, “Loki – Loki – Loki – ... “

And Loki pules gently to this. Thor can't but kiss his brothers feeble eyelids then, right, left, right, left, til he loses count.

_Nine, what have I done? What could I have DONE?_

Thor could have killed him. And he wouldn't even have been able to stop. No. Never could Thor have _not_ taken this otherworldly bliss writhing that sinfully blameless into the perfect reflection and _doubling_ of all its temptations. Thor would have pulled through coming against Lokis breastbone and no more with him grinding his thigh like a poor fox in rut – but as he stood there sunken into the image of himself, quivering at the touch (Gods, he _licked_ himself, there were two Lokis and two tongues and they - ) … no, that was simply too much. And how he loved Thors fingers, how his body _gulped_ them! Thor tried his best. But in the end he would never have possibly forced himself to _not_ taste such alluring fruits.

Loki probably didn't even know what he did, helplessly gone as he was.

_Helpless._

_Defenseless._

_At my ungrateful mercy._

Thor slugs even harder now. A sudden pang of guilt crawls peevishly into his loins as all at a terrifying once he finds himself, though soft and weak, still deep _inside_. He didn't pull out when he backed off of Loki. They're jointed, the middles of their bodies stuck together like two pieces of a puzzle. His toes sting with his every further heartbeat now. And his cheeks, like slapped a thousand times, grow numb. One terrible moment Thor simply doesn't know what to do. With his sword of a dick, oh WOE betide, spreading Lokis poor flesh.

So. He did the mountain nightmare to his love again. Although he swore he wouldn't. Although he thought he _couldn't_ after he had harmed Loki so. Their gruesome first time did not for nothing end in blood. And a runaway. And an attempted suicide. And an almost parting forever.

How could Thor have possibly even ONE second long forgotten about that at all, blood and mirror shards or not?

The oil and his fingering made things nearly elastic to the end. But …  _oh, please no, please_  … Thor gulps down acid, feeling too clearly held in those tight, sweet walls, that small, yes, way too small body … but what if that, oil and stretching, didn't suffice to prepare Loki for Thors inborn brutality?

There it goes. Cold sweat, dizziness. Nausea. This is a panic attack. The future king of Asgard is frozen.

WHAT is Thor supposed to goderfuckingdamned DO now? And WHY is he suddenly - it's got nothing to do with this moment at all – recalling that day Hogun got hit by a spear, sticking deep in his inner thigh (where the pulse runs), why is Thor remembering that instant he wanted to help his friend but got pushed away?

_'Don't pull it out, I'll bleed to death!'_

It's not like Thor fucked Lokis arteries open. Ridiculous! But nonetheless, his brother bled so hard from him on the mountain! Thor really doesn't know if he could face this once again.

Yet still they can't remain like this. He must be strong now. He's bound to be.

Ever so gently then, for he doesn't want Loki to hurt from a too sudden pullout, he slides his manhood back, prickling and idle from his last hard spill. With bated breath Thor holds and fondles the passed out body hanging like a rainsoaked scarecrow in his arms. He's getting struck for a moment, though, even his own come surrounding his size not easing the way out, and gasps as he finds Loki clenching suddenly, with his inner muscles tightly supporting a sort of back-suck vacuum welding their bodies into one.

Thor stills at once, his unblinking eyes burning as they search for any sign of agony drawing his brothers face into a grimace. But Loki merely purrs in Thors grave hug.

So the Thunderer, more pityful than jolts of power actually, forces himself to go on, heart racing with the efforts of gentleness. Gulping in anticipation of the worst he shifts Lokis weight to rest in only his strong right arm and lets his left wander down between them, his fingers trembling as they carefully slide the hot cleft down around himself where he slips out of that softly throbbing gate. Thor groans relieved (and only then he realizes how bad he really held his breath) as his fingertips do not seem to touch an opening torn into shreds. He pulls, gently, and pulls and pulls until there's no more but his head plugging the slick, warm hole that swallowed him so bravely.

Loki meanwhile lets out a tiny sigh, his peaceful face nuzzling into Thors neck. And Thor gulps, counting to three – and finally releases his length whole. His palm is directly under Lokis open way to catch the stream of seeds dripping out now, no longer kept within. His fingers, hit by the hot liquid, hesitantly feel the smeary rim lazily munching shut again. And he closes his eyes, counting to three once more, before he dares to slip his hand away and examine the color painting it.

It's white. Pure petal white. No red streaks, not the faintest hint of pink. No blood.

Thor should be overwhelmed with joy. But he's too brutally relieved to. Instead of smiling his plump lower lip quivers childishly. And he can barely stop himself from crying.

This is impossible! This shouldn't be possible. But still it just appears to be no less.

Totally emotional Thor puts a loving kiss upon Lokis forehead. A gushy haul and he's got his brother up in his arms, one slung round his shoulder, pressing him close and keeping his head from lolling down too badly, the other under his bend knees. Awing at this unconscious form, weak, boneless and exposed, but intact, _not hurt_ , yes, _trusting_ almost, Thor cannot help but sigh like a fool. And smile, smile, smile. So this is not a dream. Loki proved … able. Bearing. Receiving. All without pain.

As Thor feels something warm trickle onto his foot he shuts his eyes and hums at the unexpected sensation. Gods, this is _his_ , just more of what he shot into this fragile body, slowly sipping out now (running down the moony curves of Lokis buttocks, forming pearls, ready to drip).

For all they went through, their youngest achievement feels like a tectonic shift that _clearly_ demands to be celebrated.

But not today. It's highest time now, really, for the two of them to finally get some well deserved sleep.

Thor should clean Loki up, though. So much he owes his brother, doesn't he? For overthrowing him like this? But, mmmmh … somehow he can't. Wipe off this mark of his desire, of his ownership? No way: Curl Loki into his sheets, the beautiful, let his skin dry there, let him wash himself once he wakes up.

_But sleep with me on you now._

And anyway, who knows? _You could even have enjoyed me this time. I only wouldn't have been noticing._

Just. Well. As there's no blood. And Loki liked Thors fingers, didn't he? So why not like some more of him in there?

Oh. Realms, _that thought._ Thor actually blushes poppy red and grins like a shark.

He'd have to find out once Loki awoke. He'd ABSOLUTELY tickle, _milk_ the truth out, and if it was the last thing he'd do!

Speaking of milk Thor glimpses Lokis come from earlier, splashed onto the lower parts of the mirror, as he turns to leave. The sight makes him swallow down sweet, hot waters gathering around his tongue. But he withstands the sudden, carnal urge to fall to his knees, lick the white up and rub his chest against it as long as it's still liquid. Because as things turned out to be there is no loss, no waste of passion for them anymore, only delicious glut and welter hereafter. There would be so much more of this, of everything. Just let them both be rested well! Now that things turned out to be possible … and _all_ things … yes, there would be _so much_ for them.

He decides to lick the blood off Lokis chin, though. His lip stopped leaking now. And he just looks miserable enough to be nursed like a newborn foal. Thor nearly makes a kiss of it and treasures every bit of this feral, intimate endearment.

What follows, however - that is to say picking the bathroom key up from the floor with but his toes and kicking it into his hand, reaching out from under Lokis knees, trying to actually _catch_ it – is one not quite so easy task. But Thor, hit by good fortune as it seems, does it in the first go. Ohhhohow, the taste of victory is everywhere right now! What a HIGH!

Out through the door into the main chamber of Lokis living quarters the two brothers get slapped by a wall of quite cold air, though. Thor left the window open when he threw Lokis trinkets out of it like a madman. That was even before they disappeared into the bathroom. And Thor _did_ make the skies thunder once in a while.

Loki snores and writhes in reluctance of the sudden chill.

Guiltily Thor makes a face, puts Loki down into his bed and wraps him in whatever blankets he can grasps, jumps over to the window and hurries up to close it. And jumps right back as he remembers being naked - in front of a window, in front of _his brothers_ window.

_Prince Thor, soon to be King of Asgard, spotted completely starkers in the company of just brought home and traumatized brother Prince Loki – what's that supposed to mean? Rumors, please, rumors!_

Thor gulps, guts sinking. But, uhm, he was quick, and it's almost night outside, in here no torches burning. No one would ever have seen him! No. No need to feed hysteria again.

_Just breathe, you idiot._

But he rather tugs the curtains shut nonetheless, just in case, you know, creeping behind the fabric as he does. He feels a ridiculous weight fall from his bulky shoulders once the room is sheltered from the outside world. Loki's but a blurry pile of white sitting on his bed to Thors vision now, peacefully napping there. It's darker now. Safer.

But somehow still not safe enough for Thor to be comfortable. He's downright being paranoid, yes, close to (silly) mothering actually, but shush, he only wants his puppy Loki all secure and sound!

This room, by the very much unsettling way, opens directly into the public corridors, he realizes. Suspicious eyed Thor glares at the dark-wooden, massive main gate leading out of privacy as he absently makes some light; enough to see but not too much to greatly bite ones eyes.

There could be people stalking round the door, pressing their ears against it, harkening. Because they would be interested in what happened to Prince Loki, wouldn't they? The disappearance. The return. Mysterious. The masses weren't told anything yet because there isn't anything certainly yet to be known.

They could, and this is quite alarming, be harkening _right now_. Could have been for quite some time. While Thor fought Lokis laughter shock, while they argued, while … oh, dear Gods, while they were particularly … noisy.

Thors manhood shrinks.

They were two goddamned louders today. They've actually never been THAT loud. Not in Asgard.

That's because usually Loki swallows most of it to save his pride. And because usually Thor comes in his own palms, what's nice, but far from having him howling. Today, though ...

A heartbeat all Thors blood stops flowing through his veins. He fears his head to just plop off his neck and thud between his feet.

They could have been heard.

But the portal is of thick and heavy wood. The sounds are muffled to the outside. Aren't they? The sounds are muffled!

Thor whips back into the damp, warm bathroom, gets himself a towel round the waist and creeps back to the main gate of the greater room. He opens it but a slit and peers out. But there's no one around. The corridor seems perfectly deserted.

His knees, however, just won't stop doddering.

The corridor wouldn't be empty if people heard the princes make out loud, would it? There'd be people PILING at the door, leaving for nothing in all Realms, to just hear more of this outrageous scandal. If anybody'd listened there'd be a monstrous peasant powwow!

_It's alright. Just calm down._

So Thor shuts the door (and examines the very proud and very muffling thickness of it), gulps and fingers for the iron key sticking in its hole. He finds and turns it. Turns it again. Again. And only stops as it won't lock a fourth time.

No one's gonna get in here without a battering ram now. Thor sighs a low and pitifully breaking sound. Suddenly he's really freezing in the chill.

With wooden legs and stiff, slow moves he taps around and finds a large fur of brown minotaur locks in one drawer, pads over to Lokis bed and crawls under his slowly warming sheets, nudging into his brothers back, the fur thrown over both their bodies.

And he makes sure to materialize Mjolnir to his side of the bed. Close at hand, goes without saying.

Shooting out a final groan, still tense and somewhat terrified, Thor kisses that sweet nape in front of him, a perfect cradle for his face, smelling like _love_. He slings his limbs all around Loki and throws one last glance over to the locked door, nearly threatening it; whatever sounds would wake him up tonight, he'd have a direct look in that direction. And so he settles, breathing himself down to the sleep of a watchdog, snuggles and kisses all the while. And Loki sighs.

And hums.

And purrs.

And lolls about, his bare, soft, criminally strokable bum sweetly nudging back into Thors lap.

_Now what … ?_

Thor frowns and sets upright on one elbow at these anything but sleepy signals greased into his body, and, for the time being, tries to just ignore how Lokis cleft grew so much _creamier_ in just so little time. He cannot keep his lips from mouthing a smirk at this, though, leastwise a damn lot proud of what a load he fed his brothers body with. No wonder he's still leaking.

“Loki”, Thor mutters, touching a shoulder under the sheets, “are you … awake?”

No, he's not. As Thor gently turns his brothers face up it's sleep-laxed as before; but another sigh falls out his mouth. Another squirm shoves him for friction. And he whines a tiny but clearly impatient little bit.

Thor stares astounded: Loki must be dreaming! And WHAT a dream!

As if just to confirm these thoughts Loki bites his puffy lip and writhes, his neck snaking, slowly ... gently … soliciting.

Fuck the cold, Thors chest is hot with a start. And he doesn't mind blanket and fur slipping down his shoulders as he eagerly shifts for another, this time better view of Lokis face.

Gods, he _knows_ that expression!

“Ahhhw...”, Thor purrs, his cheeks blushing and cracking open to smile like a ripe pomegranate, “now what do we have here? Full to the brim and still so hungry?”

Like saying _yes, oh yes!_ Loki just sidles on, exposing his throat like a sculpture. Thors breathing stutters. But with a grunt he licks his lips; this is too beautiful to be true, is it? Loki, insatiable? It's just, he's SLEEPING! Yet still … oh no, that _mew_ , wasn't THAT cute? So innocent but so _demanding_?

Thor gulps hard. There's that well knows turmoil pulling in his loins, and his blood, not even really calm again but already boiling anew, gathers and tightens there. Only a heartbeat long Thor wonders if that's right or wrong now, but … but … but - you know.

Much more Thor urgently wonders if Loki dreams of begging still or of already swallowing what he so sweetly hungers for.

However, in the end that makes no difference, not the SLIGHTEST; Thor coughs out as there's another slimy rub tickling his shaft like liquid embers.

Who would have even guessed? That greedy little plush won't get enough!

And Thor, try as he may, Thor can't deny him. The door and the fear of being heard and therefore found out could not have been faster forgotten.

He grasps his brother, presses Lokis back tight against himself and curls his big head down between that far too delicate neck and shoulder, sucking in the scent until he's dizzy. Then with a moan he throws his head back up high as there's that slick, hot cleft teasing his lap again.

Lying on their sides won't do, though, so Thor eagerly crawls a little off and clasps the sheets covering Lokis body to quickly and way over excitedly pull them away like fancy paper from a long waited for gift. He licks his lips like mad with every further bit of gesso skin that he unwraps and, like a silly boy, already feels it jump between his thighs.

Not that he didn't have Loki before. But never did he _know_ he would. And never did he know he _could_ \- without doing him harm.

Let the Realms burn if he won't solemnly enjoy that now!

As Loki's bare he curls and tucks his legs up, milky feet touching his buttocks, but Thors hands are on him soon enough to roll him over on his back. And oh, does he look adorable like that; all limbs instinctively pulling in at the rotation Loki is the cutest beetle dandling on its shell ...

… and when exactly did Thors brain turn into useless, spoony candy slobber? Things are really taking on the shape of one big, fat, hopeless crush out of control.

Blushing and biting his cheek Thor strokes himself between his thighs with clawing fingers, nearly drooling there already, to remind himself of wanting Loki like a MAN.

Simple but effective: It's a good reminder. Jerking once with a gross hiss, a flash whipping his spine, Thors hips give some five pumps into his palms before his eyes can fix on his brothers form again, now to never let go the sore temptation that he is: Loki's not silly sugar twee, he's willing _prey_.

And he wants to be eaten now, doesn't he?

Like a lurking carnivore Thor grasps his brothers knees and spreads open his legs, slowly exposing every hidden joy and making place to take his seat between two pearl white, soft and _tasty_ thighs (he wants to bite them suddenly, but no, he won't). Thor growls deep in his throat at what he sees beneath himself.

Leaning in to place his burning palms around Lokis sides he slowly draws his grip down this bodyscape presented to him, feeling every hard rib against tender flesh, stroking away the goosebumps, until his hands meet round a pretty navel, sinking lower still to then eventually press down flat beside his brothers most sensitive, most lovely limb; not risen yet, but waiting, Thor would bet, muscles already densifying secretly and throbbing inside all the length. Thor doesn't touch it yet. But he swallows with a grin.

Just for the joy of stretching things a sweet, torturous bit out he lets his thumbs dig two synchronous lines away from where he had his face cradled to many times. He sculpts the white, hot lumbar flesh til he ends up at the bony knees again. As he finally bows down to suck Lokis warm tip, earning himself a sleepy gasp and a graceful squirm, he spreads his brothers legs just wider.

Suddenly snug in his master arts Thor shuts his eyes and hums deliciously, tugs gently at Lokis delicate shaft to rouse it up. He _was_ right, yes, it's firm already, but not yet completely grown; even the head still hides in its tight shelter. Thor rolls the flimsy skin with teeth and tongue to lure the silky button out. And gets it, sure, of course he does. He gulps with joy at the taste of it and swallows, throating, to easily suck his greedy way down to the base. Loki arches his spine with quivering hips and lets like just by the way the most honey oozing whine drop.

Thor finds it quite a challenge to stop what he's so good at for his greater goals. But he wants this to be special. Two gulps, no more. A little moment feeling the familiar veins procure from his most treasured candy into his sensitive tongue. And that must be enough for now.

Thor lets go with a smack and a groan. Loki is a dart tense bow, nearly digging into his own belly. His moon pale chest heaves faster now with panting, arms and hands lying unused and weak just where they're thrown, only twitching now and then, like dreamers arms and hands so often do.

Himself Thor finds bucking his hips by now, his angry club demanding more attention. Neglected it bobs thick with fire, eager to be doused. He groans a muffled sound and slightly rubs his fleshy tip with both his thumbs as if to put himself off for just a little longer, granting enough comforting friction to hold on but not enough to let his patience snap.

Good thing it's not his first today. This time he's far more in control. And nice is that, thrilling almost! He'll SO carefully choose his next steps in this pleasure play and he'll totally treasure _every bit_ of it.

Like this Thor glances up from under his blond lashes, drinking in the painting of a view. He feels his lips prickle from sucking and his tongue gets wet hot nervous at the mere sight of Lokis trembling mouth. _Yes._ Thor decides he wants a kiss now. Even if just to see how sweet his brother kisses through the clouds of sleep.

 _I really shouldn't like this so_ , he thinks to himself with a big grin. But then again it's not like Loki wouldn't have himself a ball. So Thor just heaves down onto hands and knees and slowly overcrawls his brothers pretty form to coat it with his broad shadow, head diving down to nip and suck where it just _tickles_ him to; Thor digs his tongue into Lokis belly button, thrusts his nose down the soft skin under his breastbone, gnaws and laps the two tiny, firm grapes that Lokis nipples are in this cool air and sucks their color dark. Loki, moaning ever so gently, gulping sinful sounds, hissing and humming, twisting under him, rewards Thor gorgeously.

He's looming over his face now (porcelain in this light, _porcelain_ ) and a heartbeat long Thor cannot quite believe his brother's _really_ sleeping through this. But, as much as Loki loves mischief from time to time, he wouldn't fake this, at least not EVER with spreading his legs so far without dying from shame (he's unfolded to anatomical extremes, actually). Thor chuckles and slowly sinks down onto his elbows, shoving his fingers around Lokis skull and through the dark woods of his hair as he does. His whole body gives a dark pump suddenly, dark and heavy with desire.

 _If_ his brother's acting this he won't stand any chance to go on further with it soon ... as Thor senses something build up in his guts, some kind of drum, beating a low voracity into his bones he cannot yet describe. A _curiosity_ , to be precice.

He could do anything now, Loki would not complain.

That kiss is really _only just_ a normal kiss. It's more like feasting, actually. Thor waits for but a moment, mouth open wide and tasting Lokis damp breath from below, before he shoves down all long tongue and gnawing teeth. He slobbers that shrewd bottom lip and digs his way under the burning upper, feeling every tiny chink between these so sleek teeth (which he can't help but bite, only to _feel_ them – did you ever bite down teeth?).

Thor welcomes Lokis sensual responds, shy first, then melting viscid – a dip, a suck, a gentle stretching of his jaw –, but he rather _absorbs_ it all, to say so, as he's all at once too eager to thrust beneath that tongue and press into the tiny, sharp thread of skin braced there. And doesn't that terribly smooth roof of a mouth deserve a full, rich lick, all the width covered between Lokis grinders? Not to mention how MUCH Thor needs to taste the inside of these chewy, lovely cheeks. Thor turns and nearly tosses his face with greed, finding every last corner of the conquered maw to be worth the most intense exploration. And the occasional bites coming from it, playful, _encouraging_ , just have him wild and wilder.

His chaos soon turns out to be rhythm, however, and Thor finds himself rocking his hips into the air between their bodies and along his own tense stomach at every howsoever weird blow that he kisses. Loki coos patiently under him and won't no longer try to keep up with that force thrusting his jaw apart. Thor kneads his hair, moaning all the while. Lokis left foot kicks out with a jerk like hit by a hard tickle (as Thor dribbles leak into his navel from above) and his arms twitch. But still he doesn't wake up.

This is really not the normal type of kiss.

And it can't possibly, of course, be narrowed down to only lips and that what lies beyond, delicious as that might just be. Thor all at once really, and _really_ craves to know how lashes taste. Thus he abruptly pulls back and leaves his brother yelp for air. He finds the fluffy fan adorning Lokis right eye and, once mouthed in, tugs it gently (but SO drunk) up with the lid holding it. Lokis dreaming eye must be softly springing open. Thor means to hear a fragile, slick _plop_ through the storms of his own breath. _Mmmmh ..._ and really, yes, he simply NEEDS to feel how nostrils are to nibble!

They are like earlobes, just to say, only a little flimsier.

Thor generously laps his way up that delicate, long bridge of a nose, then, reaching the space between his brothers eyebrows, sucking it, leaning, turning his face sideways to gently chew a brow until its skin must be blush pink. Loki, between his soft, rushed sighs, lets an incredibly slow mew glide out of his thoat.

Only as an unexpected,  _strong_ wave of fire unloads in Thors sweaty body and throws him into a terrifying moment of complete, black dizziness the Thunderer stills in his movement; he coughs a hard moan out and distantly hears Loki do the same (the eyebrow cramps under his lips). Something just hit his massy, bobbing spear and it was not the friction his own belly spends him through this. Thors fingertips blow up with pulse. He glances down between their bodies as soon as his vision clears up again, and; _oh_. It's Loki, hitching his hips but nowhere finding contact. His pants are pressed and desperate now, his skin wet glazed and downright crying to be touched. Sprawled out on the wild sheets his fingers clench at nothing. He must have accidentally jerked high enough to touch Thors bottom line. What has him bitterly lust for doing so again. 

_Oh dear -_

So things are getting urgent now.

Thor gulps, feeling the blood hum in his ears, and gathers himself back together to place an apologizing kiss on Lokis forehead that's both burning from fever as much as shivering in the chill. Defeated Thor crawls down again between Lokis thighs, and he REGRETS it, damn, he still wanted some more before releasing them, more of, he doesn't know, but certainly he _would have_ known as soon as his lips would have touched it. Alas, it would be unfair to stretch this any longer; Loki needs it now. And deserves it even more for the fact that he's not even really willingly _participating_ in this, yet still he's forced to suffer the need. Thor should just do his brother justice and not torture him.

Not that he wouldn't crave it, too. Somewhere's an end to every foreplay.

So kneeling back where he belongs Thor grants that aching marble bow a gentle and warm stroke, treasuring Lokis grateful sob. How easy it would be to have him undone like this ... but Thor needs this to be special. Thus he lets go the instant Loki wants to rock into his grip, and Loki grouses at the loss, impatient now, Nine, _fretful_. Thor can't help but chuckle, one hand closing round his juddering self now, the other gliding down between a pair of perfect, wet and nearly _sweltering_ buttocks. He groans as the sudden anticipation nearly knocks him out, for, that sweet place, that's just exactly where he intents to go. He directly squirts out another gush of leak and finds himself quite lucky to have caught it in his nervous palm; it's a good grease to coat himself with in the end.

Thor hurries now because all muscles jerk him at once like sizzling with electricity, and he already fears to have overvalued his control as his vision blurs aflame. He eagerly fingers for Lokis tiny hole and curses thankfully as he finds it plush and lax like he remembers to have left it in the bathroom. One, two, three testing stretches and he knows that Loki's ready, has been ready all along.

Loki, writhing fiercely now, shamelessly moans his discontent out as Thor wastes more and more precious moments with trying to pull him up his thighs like onto a ramp and find the perfect angle to strike in instead of _just finally doing it._ As for the Silvertongues natural mendacity - his body can't but tell the truth.

“Easy, boy”, Thor caws with a grin, “you shall have it soon enough!”

But as he spontaneously hauls one white leg up onto his shoulder to get more proper hold of his floundering pet Thor's met with a big surprise.

“Brother”, Loki pules, “brother … ?”

Thors eyes dart up to glimpse two green ones but a mere instant; rolling open only a tired gap they fall so quickly close again, but restlessly they turn under their lids. Half awake, half asleep Lokis brows furrow, asking what his tongue can't mouth: _What's happening, … ?_

“You moaned”,  _in your sleep_ , Thor explains and blushes, clearing his throat, his heart a flutter. He's not quite sure if he's feeling found out or just excited to have finally tickled his beautiful partner in crime to life. “You moaned”, he says again.

And Loki moans.

“Oh yes, just like that, dove ...”

“Brother, I ... ", Loki pleas on, " – _ah!_ \- ” And that speaks of so much raw hunger it's unbearable, leaving Thor obliged like rarely ever before.

“Hush, hush! I know", he whispers tragically spurred on and grips down Lokis hips and snogs the knee dandling over his shoulder. He grips down _hard_ , shuffles closer, hauls Loki with one strong jerk up into his lap and spits a boarish grunt out as he feels the firm, white bum squelch open around him. He spreads his brothers cleft with all the girth of his weapon and drills his flesh-thick head unerringly into that – _sweet, oh, uh-oh, SWEET hard bite suck_ – well, that tiny ring which won't keep him outside, no matter what, and sticks at the threshold but a mesmerizing, yes, magnetic heartbeat long, his tip munched frantically by Lokis door, welcomed with high alarms, to just swell on.

He thrusts. He's in. And nearly faints. It's easy, so, so easy. Lokis whole body gives a wince and arches so _high_ ; it's a wonder no more but a gentle gasp opens his mouth. Thor would totally have expected him to cry out loud. But his own voice is gone as well, there's but a silly wheeze escaping his hoarse throat. His hips merely judder, making his flesh rub sparks from the silken and tight cocoon clenching around it, though he _craves_ to feel the impact of another full weight blow – but for the moment he can't urge himself to pull back (out!), oh no, he _cannot_ leave. Just staying where he is Thor pants wide eyed. This is nothing he'll ever, not in his ENTIRE life, get used to, so much he knows. Loki's so _different_. And it's not even just the fact that he's a boy. He's just so – Loki. Nearly paralyzed Thor feels the muscles of his back blossom in their glorious cramps. He cannot move.

But Loki, he _can_ start the ride. And, Gods, he does. Delirious or not, he waited long enough it seems.

Faster than Thor can even look Lokis hands finally break out of their idleness and snap into his lap; throwing his head back even further Loki presses out his loaded breath with a coal black groan as his own claws squeeze around his bow all nails and scratching. As for his hips, they grind themselves into Thors size, his legs locking tightly around that waist and shoulder they lie slung around, his heels pressing down the small of a not so very small back.

Dear Nine, that boy's _alive_.

Thor yelps and gazes, topping, but – but overpowered in one strike! Lokis breathing is greedy now. His chest heaves up with every pant, only to slump back hard into the mattress. Only to rear again. And his branchy, bony fingers, lily white but _cruel_ around himself! His hips, his dancing hips. Thor sobs with bliss, still unable to do anything more but shudder.

No man should ever see his brother like this. No man should love it so.

_Oh, Loki ..._

But just like this, hauling himself finally back into himself, Thor rocks with him at last. It's natural now, yes, the only thing that matters and describes the plain purpose of his being alive. Strength, smoothness, friction. Everywhere. Thors body recalls with whitehot shocks at every blow how perfectly all the times he tears out shall be rewarded: with an inevitable coming home, deeper, harder, rawer. Oh, every time.

Somehow (distantly) this is like the magnificent being thrown here and there in a nightly storm far at sea. Thor's like a sailor, Loki his small, yet so brave skiff - that and and the wild waves all the same. Thor can only awe at the great rupture of oceans folding out around him. He clings so bad to Lokis hips like to the edges of his poor boat struggling in mightier forces than the ones it's meant to bear.

 _How great we are_ , Thor thinks as he hits down balls deep again, squeezing a cry out Lokis throat. _How very, very tiny._

Hasn't what they do always been exactly this? The splendor of withstanding the violent and threatening seas of not being allowed? Haven't they always done just that, laugh at the vicious waves they secretly know are not meant to be surmounted? Haven't they loved to try out anyways, to enjoy the fatal ride until the very end?

Even if not tonight, even if they escape the drowning in their self created mess again, one day they'll sink. But nonetheless they just sail on, valiant, stupid boys. That's what they really do.

Tears of amazement wet Thors eyes as he pounds on into the storm, his loins aflame. He rows. The slaps Lokis buttocks give in Thors lap are the sounds of breaking waves. Every thrust pushes them higher, forceful billows swell under their bodies, roaring so (and Mjolnir sizzles with sparks next to the bed)! But then Thor hears his brother sob beneath himself, needy enough to _hurt_ his frantic shaft by now, nails like claws digging down for blood; he jerks at his own touch, his small frame stutters, skeered. And all his keen determination creaks.

“Careful”, Thor coughs between his groans, “be careful, love! Don't you falter!” Just like  _yes, we'll sink, but let us sink like gods!_

And gods never give up.

Alas, Loki just whines. He can't. No more. The bilge gives in. His spine sags down. And both his hands fall off himself, trembling, revealing what they've done; he really scratched too hard. His poor throb of a curve won't just leak white but also red into his navel. Loki blubbers out a painful and defeated wail. His skin is shiny with a thin and glassy film of sweat covering goosebumps all at once striking back with force.

But Thor's not able to stop now, not for his best man wounded on the battlefield. He carries on for both of them, hips working on, _into_ his lovely steadily. But hammering as he may be, stroking his paddle, sailing in a broken boat, he still needs his brother comforted. At least a tiny bit. And so he ends up pushing his nose under the trembling knee on his shoulder. Something _Loki_ , something to kiss and shush.

_It's good, you gave it all._

A silly heartbeat Thor totally means to smell vanilla – though that's not TRUE, whose knee pits actually smells like biscuits? But he already sighs carried away. His tongue dips out into that sugar cave completely on its own volition.

It's _smooth_. Ridiculously smooth. Silk won't describe it, no. It's like Loki had one manifestation of feminity at the back of his knees (Thor's making THINGS up, but) … that warm, sweet fold, it really just suggests itself. He sinks his face in deeper and laps deliciously, stricken by this sensation he did not expect.

Loki squirms, tickled by every lick, but presses his thigh closer to Thors face, breath growing headier and eager once again (he likes that). Thor smiles as he feels fragile fingers close around his own snatched into Lokis hips. He thrusts on, powerful, trenchant, his pace victorious now, bathing his his brothers newborn sounds.

Giving Lokis pretty hole all his loins can offer Thors mouth swelters in the new pleasure place he wouldn't have imagined to find – behind a knee. His kissing has it thick with dampness, nearly slithering, and jerking all the time. _Just like every good girl should be._ The noises he sucks out of it are murderous. The moans he blows inside could be no less.

This rouses fantasies he doesn't even notice. Thor cannot say, for at least one moment, if he's right now taking a woman or a man. Or a boat, but that's a different story.

Loki just clings to him, desperate, his heels one last time drilling themselves with an unknown but so damn good brutality into Thors back; his tired lungs free blissful yelps. And Thor just shoves both of them on, leading their way through all worlds storms for shores as peaceful as can be, _maybe it's time to land, even if just for now_ , every thrust lifting them. Higher, faster.

Until it's high enough to fall memorably.

The blaze overcomes Thor with a start. All his molten inside is lightning and sun. Liquid sun flooding out his middle with a pull not to be questioned. He lets a gasp out, stripped off even the last shred of voice, and feels all strength seep out his usually so powerful muscles. Then he collapses head over into his brothers belly, forehead slapping against a wet navel, and still rocking it through Thor curls rounder with each blow that he shoots. Every gush he fills his precious darling with leaves him with a terrific shock, all his milk forced out in recurring squirts. Loki drinks him in, his body gulps as his mouth sobs, until around Thors roaring shaft his tiny chamber just brims over.

Eyes shut Thor hears how Loki follows close and true. A thankful cry rolls out his throat; he spills against his own tummy with one jabbing gush. And a little into Thors open, gasping mouth.

Like this they lie, heaving with pants, soaked and terribly worn. But ashore at last. Two shipwrecked idiots, brothers, gone wrong somewhere, doing all the weird things brothers shouldn't do. But they made it. Ashore.

A heartbeat long (that moment he slowly licks his lips clean) these thoughts make perfect sense to Thor.

It takes the two a little while to soften their whipped breaths. They snuggle while they do, Thor crawling higher and slumping completely into Lokis shuddering hug. Weak arms eagerly cling to his broad back like the ones of a child. Thors skin glows hot, and Lokis, doddering, lets itself gladly be kissed warm by it.

“Thor”, Loki slurs, “I think it – worked, I- the oil ...”

“Yes, brother”, Thor rumbles in reply, lazily fingering for the large, heavy fur that must be lying somewherer to his right (they'll need it soon) and doesn't even wonder how, when, and _if_ at all Loki woke up through this. “But quiet now, shhhh-shhhhh ...”

Loki sighs in the lull of Thors shush. It's cozy suddenly, all so genlte now. There's only one thing left, it seems, on the bested Tricksters clouded mind: “ … but can we go to bed, please? I'm so … ohhh ...”

Thor chuckles against a marble throat, realizing that his dear must still be struck in the bathroom somehow.

“Sure, Loki. Let's juss' go to sleep.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ….......... I overdid it again, didn't I?


	29. Lovely son

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ... because HEYYYY, it's Halloween - why not share a pretty nightmare with you that was initially meant to be the introduction to the next chapter which is STILL NOT DONE? Why not annoy you with another JUST TO SHORT bit of text that won't EVER satisfy ANY readers thirst for stories?
> 
> I'm bored. You see. And uninspired.  
> Happy Halloween.

 

 

 

Loki slept deep and without dreaming for some time … when suddenly something from outside gently knocks at the feathery shelter his mind lies curled into; Through his slumber he tastes with his skin that someone must be caressing his forehead and his cheek. A light voice speaks something he doesn't understand, but whatever it is, the voice speaks it ever so softly. He listens to the sounds it makes, the words, and sways a little while, careless to what they mean (he knows that voice, he loves that voice). Like this he sighs, slowly writhing in his sheets to find his body, feel his spine, and a pleasant moment long he's sure to be waking, but -

“... lovely son ...”, mother says.

\- but suddenly Loki sits back in the throne of Asgard like he did that night he was invisible, and terrified like a child that broke through the ice of a winter lake he sees his hands turn an alarming shade of blue. No matter how he stares, they won't thaw back to their usual living color and stay indigo cold, foreign to him, his own hands _not his own_. Veins procure from that deviant skin as his stinging fingers grow sore and numb with frost, and these veins crystallize to  _patterns_ , slowly crawling into his sleeves, up both his arms like poison. Loki can't breathe. The cold has touched his lungs. He wants to yell for help, yet all he does is gasp and squeak for one more breath.

Mother stands by his side. Her face is calm as she bows down to kiss his temple.

“Laufeyson“, she whispers.

Loki feels her benign lips freeze at his skin. They peck him with the snick of ice.

 


	30. Their bed

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Have some fluff for Christmas Holidays!
> 
> It's like a spell btw, I cannot get these bastards out of Lokis chambers.  
> At least they have their personal shipper in the fic now. He's a Fan. He ships them hard.

 

 

 

“Oh WOE, girl, WHOHAHAHAT?!”

Loki darts up with a start and a gasp, eyes wide and directly blinded by a too bright day. His ears ring from this sudden and brusque exclaim that threw him back into his body like a catapult. The mattress bounces under him. He must have jumped with shock. Or is it just his heart having dropped as far as to end up drumming in his hind cheeks?

_What, all Realms … ?_

“ … so THIS is why you didn't like me, hu? Prefer some heavy Volstagg meat to mill your sweet, posh titties flat?! Sheesh, I don't BELIEVE it!”

Alright. Five hysterical times blinking and Fandral the Dashing slouches on a chair in front of Lokis window, shamelessly spying out with his looking glass, most probably on his usual hunt for Asgards better female flesh believing itself in privacy.

With a wheeze Loki lets himself fall back into his pillows, pressing his eyes shut against the sharp light. He shoots a groan out as he covers his face with two pitifully trembling hands.

He doesn't know why he jerks at his own touch; his hands are warm upon his skin. He sighs into their roof. And secretly disturbs himself with _how much_ this relieves his startled mind. It's like he only just escaped something … something he cannot even name. Something ... _blue_? Maybe.

_Oh, silly dreams. What blue would ever scare me?_

Anyway, distant creeps still purl through his ears like whispers; leftovers of a bad dream. Too far to grasp and understand, too close yet to ignore. Loki stops breathing as fear strokes down his temples with an ice cold gentleness.

_Lauf ... love… fey son ..._

… _what?_

“Ah, Jeeezus”, Fandral puffs out like an axe hacked into Lokis bewilderment, finally tearing him from all his lingering nightmares. The Trickster frowns then, wide awake.

_And now again: What, ALL Realms?_

He heaves himself back up, not BELIEVING whom he just saw in here mere moments ago, and scowls as the exact same picture presents itself to him in all its terrifying glory; there the stinker sits, that bearded intruder who does NOT have the least, not the tiniest reason and right (!) to be here! Not without Loki having particularly allowed it. And ABSOLUTELY not, dear Nine, with Loki SLEEPING!

What is this, he napped and Fandral lurked through his personal living quarters or what? What is this, Hel? Who let him in? And, Gods, at all; where's THOR?

A sudden sting radiates wrist to elbow through Lokis arm as habit has him try to blow the warriors hair up into a glimmering, green fire - with a spell that won't get out and instead bursts in him like a vicious backfire; Loki winces in remembrance of the bracelet violently muzzling shut his magics. They tingle like shooting needles through their cage now, flushed up and unable to break free. Not that they could seriously harm him, illusions that they are, but their _frustration_ really bites.

 _Hush down you monsters,_ Loki tells himself off. But though this sorcerous shot into his own foot is at least something he can explain to himself in this ridiculous mess the pain's just getting him angrier.

Air dried, unbridled curls fall into the trickless Tricksters face (and he blows them away all annoyed) as he barks out from between gritted teeth: “Rotting Hel, what are _you_ doing in _my_ chambers?”

“Ah! Morning, Prince Sleepy Deepy”, Fandral snickers, never stopping to eagerly gaze through his sleek equipment of perv pride, “my apologies if I made you jolt out of dreamland, be assured I didn't mean to, really, but I just FOUND out … !”

_As if I'd actually care._

“WHERE is my brother?”

“Ermh”, Fan clicks his tongue now, interrupted and finally drawn from his _so_ important news, “Thor's off I fear. It's just the two of us right now.” He shoots Loki a ridiculously friendly glance before fixing his eyeballs right behind the ocular of his favorite tool again. “ ... oh Volstagg, you … !”

“But - WHY?“ Lokis voice squeals up into disgusted consternation. Alone with Fandral? Sleeping and alone with Fandral? And Thor allowed it? This situation is grotesque enough to physically hurt! Loki just can't stop his face from grimacing. Let alone the fact that he didn't want to know ANYTHING about _oh Volstagg, you_!

What happened at all? Yesterday … it's all so blurry after the bathroom. He can't even recall having gone to bed! No, wait, of course, he passed out, didn't he? All he remembers is … is ... _oh._

Loki blushes and slowly shrinks into himself like a glowing sponge. He glares at his unwanted visitor all terrified. As if he feared the warrior would somehow read his mind and _see_. Because for an intense heartbeat long Loki actually feels Thor in all his openings at the same time (and he nearly mews at this unexpected shudder) like being taken just again, both ways, _all_ ways.

Only that now FANDRAL IS HERE.

Loki gulps thick shame down as he stares at the mans tongue absently licking his lips under that silly beard while he's happily busy spying after only Heimdall knows what poor and clueless maidens.

_And I sit here thrumming with aftershocks of the glorious cockwork your best friend and my own brother powered into on me. And you, as our only confidant in this, you probably know._

It's then, however, that Loki realizes he's not seriously hurting anywhere. Well, there's that sting like from a scratch tickling a beastly fine line down his personal parts, yet he can't quite imagine how he should have gotten scratched _there_ , so, he blames that on his petrifying embarrassment. Aside from his inner magic monsters there's no thing actually, and even these are slowly settling down again.

He needs a moment to concentrate on his insides, all intact (even his jaw feels better now), and he blushes just hotter as he finds his inlet, tight like never opened, _clenching_ around the memory of what spread it apart last afternoon. He doesn't smell Cowards Brew on himself either. Loki just simply doesn't seem to be injured.

He does, somehow, remember now that the first pain, brute as it was, didn't last long. Though he thought he only made that up after he knocked his face into the mirror.

So – what? They did it? The impossible? And Thor just leaves him to wake up with, and he can't even THINK it outraged enough, with FANDRAL? Now really, Loki shivers. Somehow he feels like a used hanky. He could cry.

At least – he glimpses down himself – he isn't naked! Thor must have dressed him somewhen … but oh, _no_ , his guts cringe, hopefully NOT when that wannabe Dashing was already here!

“See, he wants me to babysit you while he's gone”, the man suddenly adds, just deepening Lokis already sore humiliation, “'n asked me to keep watch over lil' Loki til he's back.”

 _Lil' Loki?_ He gulps a whine down like viciously pinched. _Lil' Loki_ meaning what, younger than Thor or … ridiculously boy-sized what you've got there?

 _No._ Fandral didn't see his – nope. _No. M-m._

 _Thor wouldn't do this to me._ He wouldn't do _that_ , even though he and his glorious logics SOMEHOW decided to plant the personified plague into Lokis nest (and he would even have preferred to wake into the awkward company of Lady Sif who wants to thrash him all the time!). But _that_ – Loki can't help it and groans, hiding his face again. Just no. Even if Thor was not as thoughtless as to show him off to Asgards most vaunted peeper while he slept. The thought alone is cringeworthy enough.

He glares out from between his fingers and snarls: “I think you keep watch over _decent other things_ than me, oh Dutiful.” Just to somehow spit at least a little bit of the shame this awkward setting has him chew back at the one who served it. Not that Loki's having any high hopes to succeed in this – Fandral appears to be perfectly comfortable with his perv behavior.

“Yea”, named perv shrugs with a smile, “got quite a good view from here, Lokes. You don't even have to climb a tower! I am earnestly jealous.”

“What a waste I don't share the spying passion.”

“Ha! Sure, as if!”

And Loki groans again. He gives it up.

“ … so”, he grouses, frustrated to no end and all at once feeling small and terribly lonely, “where _is_ Thor now - and why?”

Loki finds himself sulking and can't help it. Thor didn't even bother staying to promise him a kiss before he left. Suddenly not that concerned to keep him alive anymore or what? It's silly, _to die for_ silly, but he's quite upset his brother didn't play this game at least once with him. In hindsight Loki's actually surprised by what strikingly romantic things he could come up with. Thor should have taken this artful bait with gratitude! But alas. It's Thor.

Bad thing Loki even thought of it, though. He _craves_ a kiss now. And some private words. Just a little help in facing the day. Because how's he supposed to face Asgard without Thor after all that happened? He cannot possibly ...

But then again he can't sit here in bed until his brother's back, that would just too much look like an open protest. He bites his lip and frowns.

_I want you here. Why can't you ONCE be where you're needed, Oaf?_

“Nnnneh, whut?” Fandrals reaction took some time indeed.

“Where's Thor, again you pillock!”

“Ah, pardon! Well, I don't have a direct clue but he'll be somewhere in the palace I guess, as your parents called him out for, I don't know, whatever royal things, you know, king things probably. The postponed coronation and stuff. Boy, he could barely part with your snorin' mass when he was bossed out to duty, but he had to in the end. I bet he sits on bees to return!”

 _Oh._ Loki gulps and feels his skull warming under his hair, hit by a very, very silly excitement about some of Fans way too silly by-the-way phrases.

Could barely part. Bossed out. Sits on bees.

_So it's not your fault you're not here._

Thor would probably have stayed if he would've been allowed to. He would have waited for Loki to wake.

And … if that means, he didn't want to leave his brothers side, like Fandral said, only as their father called, Thor would not have left Loki during the night, would he? And if so – where would Thor have slept?

… _here,_ Loki suddenly knows with a flutter of his heart, his fingertips trembling as they stroke across his sheets. _He slept here. In my bed. With me._

This sudden sensation is a memory, no wish (it can't!), a distant, sleepy, dark and cozy memory of them nuzzling arm in arm like real lovers would, curled up in Lokis bed. What makes his bed particularly _their_ bed. Actually.

_Our bed._

He doesn't make that up, does he?

Loki gulps a hiccup down as he feels water in his stupid eyes. Love doesn't only make blind, no, it makes totally DUMB it seems, he cannot really cry for such cheese, but … he has rarely ever wanted anything to be true like he wants this.

However, one lesson is clear: Thor's not a selfish brute this time and Loki no used hanky.

The situation is still downright weird, though. Loki clears his throat and tries to focus on other things, anything not emotional – he just can't have Fandral witness him sob like a baby out of a complete damn sudden! He shoots called man a short glance – they guy is _still_ spying out the window, dear Norns – and decides there's no better killer for tears of joy than conversation with him.

“How long did I sleep?” Well, measured by the sunlight Loki knows exactly how long he slept into the noon. It's just. Something.

Fandrals response shall have his breathing stutter, however: “Oh, that must be about two days and three nights now. Two and a quarter days, plus today.”

Lokis guts sink.

“Excuse me?”

Fan shrugs, smile wry: “Seems like you needed it. You look like shit, by the way. Screaming white chalk. You'd scare away our good ol' Urd like this, boy.”

“Two days? Now this is not true – you're joking with me!” But ... Loki usually smells lies. He knows them way too good to _not_ track them on their speakers lips. And he doesn't smell lie right now, as much as he wants to.

Fandral makes a contrite face behind his lenses.

“Thor was … quite terrified”, he says then, his voice a little less cocky, and just a glimpse shot at the problem prince, white in his white sheets, the warrior seems to put his ever so annoying mask of jolly power down, “you made him grow at least one new, deep worry line, I tell you.”

_Oh._

Loki winces as his heart tumbles around itself. He casts his eyes down, defeated by but the tiny inkling of his dear brothers alarm reflected in Fandrals witnessing eyes. He hears the warrior clear his throat, put his tool of distraction aside and shift in his chair. The man probably thinks himself absolutely thoughtful right now.

And suddenly Loki's dizzy with a new and overwhelming wave of anger as he realizes how he's just been left the asshole in this; Thor worried to death, Fandral caring all at once, and he? He's just the cause for all this trouble, having none but himself to blame for it all.

Oh, Loki feels sick. He snorts, frowning even deeper now. The balance of blame must somehow be restored to its natural level! It's not fair to leave him guilty like this, but peoples concern has him look totally selfish and heedless right now. Loki feels really sick.

“And how long have _you_ been here? With that … hobby of yours?” He glares into Fandrals ear to avoid his eyes. He just wants the other man to feel bad so that he could imagine feeling better. But he doesn't hit it; Fandral's all his old good, pesky mood again.

“Nawww, not long. Only about three hours today.”

And Loki frowns _again_. Or still.

“Today?”

“Now come on, where's your brain? Your brother's been busy yesterday as well, and the day before that! It's not my first watch, sweetheart!”

Alright, and that's enough to feel morally superior again. Loki clearly has to assume Fandral to somehow have kept himself entertained while sitting here, all bored and with nothing but a sleeper as his company. And a spying glass. And a perfect view. And _his both two hands_. He would totally have seen to fight even the slightest hint of boredom, wouldn't he? It's just, ONCE would even have been one time too often. Not his first watch he said.

Lokis toes curl with pins and needles in disgust.

“... … … I don't like that thought”, he mumbles, creeping out of bed now to take some more distance, and gingerly runs his fingers through the nest on his head he calls hair. However, he just earns himself a hearty laughter. And cold feet.

“It's alright. You didn't do anything strange if that is your concern”, as Loki is totally concerned about _himself_ having done strange things, “no, you've been quite the mommys darling boy. Didn't snore. Didn't fart. Just lay there like dead. Sometimes I would come over and check if you're still breathing. That was kind of weird. But otherwise, well. Babysitting has never been that easy.”

“You're welcome I guess.”

Loki stares at his bracelet as it dangles from the raised wrist in front of his face. Then his next words are out before he can even think _why do I feel like having to defend myself at all?_

“The sudden lack of magic must have thrown my body out of balance. That's why I slept so long.”

“Mhhh … quite interesting - not that I'm supposed to know anything about such things - but Thor claims the reason to be the very opposite. He found you overuse your magics in Vanaheim he said. And if you did that all the time you've been gone – no wonder, then. You looked quite crazed indeed. When we found you I mean. Just sayin'.”

_So ONCE in life you run from execution and people call you crazed._

“Thor doesn't understand magics.”

“Oh sure. But the healers do, one would think.”

Fandral absently twirls his beard. And Loki freezes as his fingers comb his unruly hair back and into his nape. He gulps, his vision swimming suddenly.

“What?”

“Nah, the heal-”

“I heard you clear enough! What do the healers _say_ and how do _you_ know about it? Has father had them talk to the public about my conditions or what?” … comatose from magic overload? Raped sore like a virgin sold to the whoreshouse and taught the primal arts the hard way?

So, Loki knew what ugly talk was to come and he knew it would be ugly to swallow, but the thought alone of all dear Asgard already oozing with theories and gasps and laughter …

They can't know it was Thor, and they can't harm him for having been harmed. Yet still … the _shame_.

_'He provoked it.'_

_'He deserves it.'_

_'He pushed his luck too much this time.'_

_'Might even've brought himself into this for fun.'_

_'For his deviant cravings!'_

_'For his twisted goals!'_

_'For the attention!'_

Loki probably won't ever leave his chambers again. His vision really swims.

“Wha, nohohow, CALM down! No public, no speech, it's all mysterious and cozy privy - whoa don't you faint, have I said anything wrong or what?”

Fandral darts up from his chair and rushes in like a headless idiot as if he tried to catch a vase beyond price that's dropping to the floor. In front of Loki he halts, though, and instead of having to grab for the prince (Loki frowns, but it must really have looked like he'd throw himself dramatically down at any moment) Fandral claws his own hair and curses under his breath.

“It's just that Thor had the healers tell HIM it's been the magic that exhausted you so! And he told me! And I didn't tell ANYONE, remember I promised to, I'm not as stupid as to EVER tell ANYONE about ANYTHING related to you again, easy! Don't do fainting or dying or whatsoever shit, not now that you woke up, I've had you safe so long, I can't have Thor beat the farts outta me for losing you now! Just don't get lost in my watch, please! Wait til he's back at least!”

And as pity personified stands there in front of him Loki finds himself straightening his posture and pride again. Oh look at that warrior turned worrier – and Loki thought _himself_ miserable!

He shouldn't smile now. But. You know, it's just - no matter how Asgard would defame him (and it would, sooner or later), there'd always be Fandral for him to pity, at least _one_ still under his heel. The poor guy's really done with that threat Loki spun around his neck it seems. Somehow, a silly, vicious how, this squalid joy helps a bit to bear the mess waiting outside. Loki takes a deep breath, brows rising up his forehead on their own mischievous volition.

“Alright”, he says, “no whatsoever shit or how you called it, not until my brother's back.”

“Oh – GOOD! Good. Whoa, just - ”

“Fandral.”

“Hu?”

“You're plucking your beard out.”

“Oh. Ohow! Well, well!”

“Mind if I freshen myself up a bit … ?” Lokis thumb darts over his shoulder, pointing at the bathroom. His pretty eyes do not accept refusal. He remembers well enough how Thor didn't want to let him go in there alone. But he will NOT have Fandral follow him, so ...

The man just sighs at Lokis request, relieved to no end it seems.

“As long as you don't jump out of a window … “

“Why, I can't change into a bird without magics!”

“Indeed, indeed … “

And then Fandral already slumped back into his chair and puffs for breath. Loki disappears into privacy quite pleased with himself.

As the door snaps into the lock behind him he sighs. And gingerly sniffs his both armpits through the cushy tunic he wears. He decides he didn't start stinking all too much in two days doing particularly nothing but sleep and secretly carols for not having to bathe now as he is quite tired from – sounds silly, but – from sleeping. _Later today._

One glance into the mirror makes him cringe, however – his _hair_ , dear Gods. Not directly oily. But wow, that volume is nasty. Yet then again he's used to fight these everyday briars of his. Nothing some wax wouldn't fix.

So he combs his way down his skull, forces some color into his face with cold water and brushes his teeth. And all the while he can't help it and secretly searches for bruises anywhere around the corners of his mouth, marks of a decent _stretch_. But no, his cheeks look like they've never been touched, his lips like never opened for a kiss … or something else.

Considered now it's just incredible he really had his brothers swollen pride down his whole throat.

A prickle running down his spine Loki can't but twist and turn around to flee from his own blushing reflection. So he fixes his burning eyes on the full body mirror instead. It's hidden under the towel again, though. It must be broken underneath. There are some tiny shards on the floor left. Thor seems to have at least tried to conceal the mess they made.

Loki smirks against his own embarrassment as his heart flutters. And before he can even think of containing himself he doesn't know what he tries more: To picture _every detail_ of what happened there or NOT to picture himself being fucked into that wall.

Dear. They must have looked hilarious. Or, well, at least _he_ must have. Thor was most probably an awe inspiring, intimidating, worshippable and gold sweating perfection of thick muscle strands working in wild harmony around each other, meant to take, to conquer, to own, to ...

All awkward Loki gulps an unexpected heat down and wants to take flight back into his main chamber (because the air in here is even now, days later, much too thick of _them_ ), but that very moment he glimpses the many, many flasks of oil that weren't there before. So he stills. And stares. And blushes even darker. And not only face centered. No. That blush creeps all over his body.

Thor's got him new oil. Obviously. And loads of that. At least thirty tiny phials like the one (!) Loki used to own stand there pretty and rowed up on the marble shelf.

_You're making plans, then?_

Loki licks his all at once desert dry lips with a whiff of panic. But he cannot keep himself from slowly grinning ear to ear. His fingers shake as he reaches out for one of the bottles. The molten gold inside floats back and forth as he turns it around itself.

He didn't know he's such a sex fixated prole inside but he really needs his brother now. There's just no sense in denying anything anymore. And no more horrors left to fear. He wants Thor. Now. And he would even suck his goddamned Yggdrasil trunk again. Just to touch. No matter how.

Loki grants himself but a sinful heartbeat closing his eyes and gently stroking the bottom of the phial down the line of his length stirring behind his trousers – but he remembers far too sourly that Fandral sits a mere wall away from him and all his thrilled up pleasure dies out with a start.

Frustrated he clicks his tongue and absentmindedly slips the flacon into his pocket. He should probably keep his appetite for once his brother returned anyway.

Because – because … _wait._

Loki shudders in the realization of how inevitably they'd have sex once Thor was back. As his brother waited for this nights and days. As they've finally reached the level of _anything's possible_. And as Loki cannot wait for it either. They'd absolutely have sex. Hungry, oil dripping, blissful and, most over all, _painless_ sex.

Well, almost painless. Staying realistic. Thor is Thor. His hands won't have grown too much softer while Loki slept. But … if decent thing just _worked_ … a little nasty pain could be so nice …

Loki gulps, his unblinking eyes close to watering tears from their dryburn.

Thor would be back any minute from now.

_Oh. Dear. Norns._

Hit hard by this suddenly so real anticipation, nearly knocked out to be honest, Loki finally wobbles back into the company of his unwanted visitor and hasn't ever felt such awful jitters before.

He needs something, ANY distraction now, but he already knows nothing would ever help him calm down again. Nothing but their eventual collision. The wait, though, the WAIT will – he'll just have to sit this through.

“Uh, hey”, Fandral strolls in on Loki once more as the prince scarcely stepped over the threshold, wiggling a folded piece of paper in his hand, “I almost forgot to give you this … here. Blondie left a letter. If you'd wake up before he's back. He didn't want to miss you come back to the living, but as the damage is done now”, the man shrugs, not in the least feeling guilty.

Not that _he_ made Loki shock out of sleep.

However, Loki couldn't care much less right now and only tries to concentrate on his own fingers and forbid them to shake.

_A letter._

Thor wrote him a letter. Now this he didn't expect. Nine, would that help now or only wear his nerves down even more? Before he can decide Loki snaps at it like the greedy, needy boy that he is.

“The seal is – broken”, he then states with a frown.

“Yeh, sure! I opened it.”

“You WHAT? You READ it?”

“Mmmh, yeah, I fear so. He told me not to. But I opened it. I'm Fandral, I had to.”

“This is private!”

“I was SO curious!”

“As if THAT was a reason!”

“Just, now read it already! 's quite cute. Short, yes, but I guess you know Thor's not the poet. It's adorable, though!”

Loki can only scowl, cheeks glowing, at the wide grin splitting Fandrals face into two halves. All at once the warrior seems to be _whealing_ in his special position of being trusted Asgards possibly dirtiest secret of all times: Dear, he just handed the younger prince a love letter written by the throne heir! How _obviously_ that jerk is having himself a ball!

Loki snorts and turns around. And prays Thor didn't all at once suffer the smack of a graphic-description-erotica muse.

He finds it hard to unfold that darn piece of paper with his rebellious fingers shaking like he told them they shouldn't (!). But then it's done. The white space containing only one line of very few scrawly words in a place nor left- nor right-adjusted and somehow not even centered – _Thor, you artist_ – shines up at Loki with all its plain glory.

The letter reads:

 

_Don't die. I'll kiss you soon._

 

Loki swallows. And gulps a heavy sigh down that somehow slips into the chambers of his heart to blow their walls out wide. His pulse starts racing from no more but two sentences.

This little thing, this ugly jotting paper. It's so silly that it's gorgeous.

“ ... not the poet indeed”, Loki smiles. Then he hurries to fold the letter back up into a tiny, flat and precious thing to hide in his chest pocket (yes, close to his heart, yes, intentionally so). He shoots Fandral but the slightest glare, claiming _this is mine, mine alone! You oughtn't ever have touched it!_

Fandral in turn smirks. And with a hearty sigh he sneaks away to flop back to his window spot again. He looks out with his bare eyes this time, bored as it seems, but suddenly starts one actually rather serious speech.

Loki, hand ghosting on his chest, stands listening quietly.

“You know, I will not ask how things came to be between you and your brother, Loki. And I don't even care, I am not judging anymore. Just know I've never seen Thor like this. He is … happy, I would almost say. Or at least he could be if you'd stop to put yourself in danger all the time. I was startled when I found out about you two – and you know exactly why I guess, not only men but brothers, dear, that's two sins at a time – but I have really never seen Thor like this before. The idea of it all doesn't even seem so wrong anymore if I just look at him … and this change suits him well. He cares and thinks lately. Since he brought you back I mean. Behaves much more like a grown up. More like a … king than a raving prince out for deeds instead of duty. Don't get me wrong, no one enjoys a neat adventure with the future king of Asgard more than I do, but … speaking of Asgard. You understand, his future lies in duties, not in deeds. But, wait, what am I talking about at all? Back to the start. So. You know, the strangest things can be kept secret if done wisely. That doesn't hurt anyone. And if they do good besides, see - and I will be the last to blow in this. Thor is my friend, Loki. I am a friend. I want you to know that.”

Surprise.

Loki would not have expected … that. As the heartbeats pass but no more words fall out Fandrals mouth he's left torn between being astounded and plain bashful.

_Did he really say … ?_

“Thank you”, is all Loki can think of replying, “I appreciate … that.” Yet putting things to rest like this he remains confused, blinking his eyes and turning slowly on his heel, not sure what to look at, where to turn.

Fandral meanwhile lets out a loud and happy sigh and draws the sound of it out to such a shamelessly dimwitted degree it simply breaks the ice between them.

_I am going to regret this, but ..._

Loki finds himself chuckling before he just asks aloud: “Did you REALLY say my brother is a better man because he bangs me?”

Fandrals eyes go wide. “For the welfare of Asgard, I DID!” The warrior ardently claps his hands like applauding his own astounded outburst of laughter. Loki laughs, too. He doesn't even know why. Gods. Laughing's quite good, though. Letting out some of this nasty, nasty pressure.

“Now, just ONE thing”, Fandral insists, snorting with guffaws, “I am ITCHING to know - !”

“Oh, COME on, you won't ask you said!”

“I won't, no details, just: WHO made the first step? Who convinced the other?”

“If this is a question of guilt Thor is completely to blame.”

“No way!”

“Why, simple! Name one time Thor has ever been the passive one.”

“Whoa, this hits me off guard now! Wait boy, wait! I would totally have thought YOU sneaked your pretty self into his arms!”

“How's THAT?”

“He was so fond of girls, always! I'm stunned! Don't get me wrong, it's, yeah, it's awesome. Thor romancing a boy – while that brother thing is even a different story, sheesh! - I just wouldn't have expected that!”

“Now imagine how much _I_ expected it!”

“Ohohow dear!”

“Though, to be fair”, Lokis cheeks hurt from grinning and his breath stutters short, “he did not quite know what he did for a good while.”

“NO way!”

“Yes!”

 _Why am I TELLING this and why, why does it feel that GOOD to finally just tell someone?_ Loki flourishes his hands, smiling, and Fandral wipes the tears he laughs from the corners of his eyes.

“Although he somehow _made_ it happen, and overthrew me actually, it more _happened_ to us than anything. I doubt he knew what he was up to. I wasn't up to anything myself at this point, by the way. As everyone just LOVES to mistake me for a twisted manipulation master ALL the time! I'm not as skilled and absolutely not as sick as to seduce my own brother against his will – and then he not even came for me as a _whole_ in the first place!”

“Oh my, oh – now what do you mean by THAT? PARTS of you innocentling had him on? There goes my wild imagination, pictures in my mind!”

“WHAT? I”, and that's when Loki realizes what suggestion he just gave away, “I didn't MEAN - !”

_Alright, I did._

Loki blushes deep, dark pink as the other man just desperately roars out cackles close to suffocate him. But Loki _must_ smile, he just _can't_ not. Somehow he even enjoys his massive shame right now, lifting dizzy him into a lightness that he thought he'd never feel again. As if it's all just right and real.

“My prince … I TELL you, this is _hard_ stuff indeed”, Fandral spits out from a hoarse throat with a blink of his left eye. And an ambiguous shift of his hips.

_What. Fuck. Shit. HARD?_

“Oh”, Loki gasps, his face melting at once, “oh, WATCH your tongue now, warrior, don't cross this line!”

“Pardon, pardon”, Fan smirks at Lokis crimson cheeks and stops with a wave of his hand, “ahahh, yeyeh … you know, I'd go and leave you to your blushing now, I would, but sadly I am told to sta-hihi, forgive me! Yet if it embarrasses you so much we do not need to talk more on, my prince.”

“Yes. Please. Drop it. I – will fetch me a book.”

“Sweeeet! I'll fetch me some girls, then.” Coughing out last giggles Fandral rubs his hands with a sparkling grin. Aaaaaaand there goes the spying glass.

Loki won't believe his eyes!

“You DARE? I am awake, you rotter!”

“Mind you, Hardie!”

 _Ugh._ Loki falters.

“ … what name did you just call me?”

“Hardie of course – like Blondie! Fits, doesn't it? Hardie, grounding on the adjective hard, hinting at nice, _particular_ hard things, hardly ignored by Blondie! We've come full circle here!”

_OH MY. OHMYWHATWHY, why did I ASK?_

“I should kick you OUT of that window!”

“Yeees, you should”, Fan snickers, ducking away under something that isn't there, just in case Loki threw anything at his head, and giggles, “okay, okay, I'm stopping it!”

“You better do!”

“I do, I do … no more names, promised, no names, gnnneheheeehhh … … ...”

Only as Loki sighs with relief there's that sing song from the man behind the spying glass: “ _Mhmm_ and _Mhmmmm_ , sitting in a treeee … K-I-S-S-I-N-”

“FANDRAL!”

“Sorry, sorry, sorry!!!”

Loki groans. And Fandral giggles only more.

Yet so, awkwardly creeping back onto his sheets (because somehow he's not able to think of any more comforting spot to be right now), Loki grabs for a book from the bedside cabinet, sitting cross legged like a child. The thumping of his heart is violent right now and he needs all his concentration to settle it down at last. This pace can by no means be healthy. Not to mention his chin to hairline space that glows ablaze like fireworks.

He knew he would regret the chit chat, didn't he?

_Alas, alas ..._

Fandral is silent now.

Minutes later Loki realizes that he holds the random tome he snapped for wrong side up, however, and that the pages don't read anything but _don't die, I'll kiss you soon_ for him. All abashed he whirls the book around. Yet how does that matter? It won't be any more interesting now. Never ever more interesting than what he's waiting for. And _whom_. With a silent sigh Loki gets himself a little more comfortable, sinking back and almost into a flat belly up outsprawl as butterflies go berserk in his tummy once more.

_Kiss you. Kiss you soon._

Loki licks his lips in spite of himself and sucks the tender inner side of the lower between his teeth, losing against a day dream. It's alright to let his head fall down into his pillow as the heavy book weighs open mouthed in his hands and on his chest, he's _reading_ , readers switch positions time and again. And it's okay to let the book slap down on him, readers stop reading to think about what they read. Time and again. Loki makes sheeps eyes at the ceiling. And in spite of himself, oh Norns, he can't keep from yearning to have Thor looming above him now. Lids sinking down he can nearly feel the heat of his brothers body radiating down on him. He can nearly smell his perfect hair and hear the hot breath leaving his mouth …

_I'll kiss you soon. Kiss you and more._

“ … Loki?”

At his name his lids bolt open in a sobering shock. He didn't space out as far as to sigh a song of love to Fandrals amusement, did he?

“Napped out again?”

“No!”

“Keh, however”, Fandral smirks as he hides his spying glass in a pocket, “you hearin' the feet thumping down the corridor? I bet that's not an elephant rushing in!”

_Thor._

Loki literally jumps to his feet, and he could care no less about the warrior snickering behind him as he eagerly pulls his sheets in order, throws the heavy book on top and tames his hair one final time. He wants to look accurate, he wants to look perfectly fine, he - snapping for the book again - wants to look totally distracted, aristocratically above everything and most of all: NOT waiting.

“Kudos, kudos! Who would have guessed?” Fandral whistles with appreciation.

“What?”

“You're posing like a chill cold master!”

Loki clicks his tongue.

And then it all happens faster than eyes can blink.

The door – open, Thor's there, Loki can see him from the corner of his eye ...

“Fandral ... is he - !”

… their gazes meet and Loki swallows, not prepared for this, not yet, he wants to smile but is not granted enough time to even try, three long, fast steps and there he is, that big, broad Oaf, hugging him tight and tight and tighter.

Loki merely catches a short glimpse of his brothers facial expression, too short to read it out. He finds his nose pressed into heavy shoulder armour, squeezed shut and unable to catch further breath, so he gasps with his mouth instead. That snoring noise he makes is not quite glorious, but then again it's not his fault he's all out of a sudden nearly crushed to death. One vicious corner of his book digs painfully into his stomach. And these arms squishing him jelly, really, are they made of IRON or - ? But Loki won't complain. Somehow he cannot think of being touched any more beautiful way right now.

Thor must be really happy seeing him awake.

“Brother”, Thor sighs dramatically, “brother, I thought you'd never wake again!”

Loki only gargles in reply. And moans bewildered as he's released from the all consuming, loving pressure just as rapidly as he was embraced. Two heavy paws grab for his shoulders, holding him tenderly like a piece of art. He blinks up at his brother, at his BRUTE, his …

Oh, that smile. That deeply grateful smile.

Loki blinks up at his love. The book falls out of his hands.

Two warm, rough palms cradle his face with a softness that seems unnatural to them. And then Thors kiss melts down onto Lokis lips before he can even realize it does.

A heartbeat long paradise really does exist, really, and blooming only for them both alone. Loki wants to open his lips, dizzy as he stands, so curious to taste that nectar all his being craves to taste. But before falling too high into this preciousness he smiles and stops himself, feeling his brothers hot, wet mouth open around his own shut one, a tongue searching, asking to be hosted inside.

It's not yet time to take what he's been promised.

Loki gently sighs in his throat, his heart beating warm in his every pore, and like this, all motionless, he makes his brother wait.

Thor pulls back slowly and not far, just far enough to speak and blaze the delicate moistness that his kiss left glinting on Lokis lips. This close his voice has nearly the effect of a mighty dragons breath softly sparking out affection rather that fierce firestorms.

“Why don't you kiss me back?”

If Loki didn't know it better Thor would almost sounds unconfident.

Their eyes meet then. And Loki, answering Thors heartbreaking question, merely cocks his brows and shoots one big eyed, telling glance at Fandral who sits piercing his thumbnail into his teeth with one serious _uh, don't let yourselves be bothered by my presence_ ostentation. Thor follows Lokis gaze with an _oh_ , but he doesn't seem to care about Fan seeing them kiss for himself. He does for Loki, though, as he straightens and leaves it for now.

“This means I'm out of work?”

“I guess, my friend”, Thor cracks a sunwarmed smile and squeezes Loki to his side, “thank you so much, Fandral.”

“Why certainly! If you take anything for granted about my person then this.”

“No chance, I'll be grateful forever.”

“Okay, okay”, Fan smirks under his beard, getting to his feet and starting to slowly sneak off, “so, I'll be going now, take a long overdue piss and stuff! I assume to see you around and outside these walls some time today?”

“Sure!”, Thor booms from the depths of his witlessly happy heart.

Of course Loki jerks at the thought of confronting the world, yet then he knows he's being silly again wishing only to remain in here forever like a fox in its safe den. He sighs. Thor didn't notice his reaction.

“Well then, later”, Fan cheers, but only to interrupt himself, “yet if I might allow good me some word of _advice_ , you love birdies … don't rush it, choose your public moment freely, boys. I'm not ever gonna claim Loki woke in _my_ presence. That could have happened a sweet, nice hour later I mean. Or two. Or three. You know what I mean.”

Just who taught the man to wiggle his brows and ears and outer beard tips all the same pervy way at the same time?

“Begone already”, Loki hisses.

“Yehehes, can't wait for your privacy, now can you?”

Thor lifts one hand to scratch his stubbled cheek all clueless, the genius. Yet then he grunts with widening eyes in sudden understanding, but he doesn't even flinch, he laughs – whereas Lokis embarrassment colors his face pure claret one more time.

“And Thor”, Fandral whirls around _again_ as his hand grabs for the latch, “for I am just now opening a door: remember what I told you about doors and hinges – we don't want poor Loki to vamoose again because you can't be gentle, for Urds sake!”

Loki gasps. So what did Thor _tell_ the guy?

“Be GONE!”

The portal slams home, a giggle dying out behind its shelter. Then there's that silence.

Thor hums a sigh and leaves Loki marvel at his imposing back as he strolls off to turn the key and lock the room.

Did Thor grow even taller whilst Loki lay sleeping? Did his hair grow, too, and did it always gleam this way? The healthy, thick strands of his mane cascade down to his shoulders shamelessly, really like molten sun. Their fine ends tickle that crimson cloak like a poor, lust tortured lovers skin.

Lokis knees are weak like the ones of a foal. The butterflies and jitters go all numb and shy within his body. What's even worse than their tumult from before. Suddenly Loki sees the many flasks of oil with his minds eye and gulps nervously. Out of a sudden he feels his face cool down too fast. He must be paling.

_So there you are. And here I am._

The wait is over. And yet it's all killing him still. How will he ever start this?

“Morning”, Loki mumbles.

Thor cocks his head and turns around slowly to come back closer. As he's there the knuckles of his right hand stroke across Lokis cheek, testing it seems. A frown digs chasms into his broad face. Thor bears a question there, a light concern. As if he wasn't sure about his brothers mental clarity.

“It's noon, love.”

“ … buuut I … just woke up”, Loki protests and can't help it but be ridiculously sheepish. Fumbling on a mesh of Thors hauberk he tries out a glance into his brothers face. And directly takes his hand back as he realizes how his twitchy fingers are betraying him. Thor smiles. He only smiles and tugs him close, gently this time.

“Good morning, then”, the great blond huffs into his hair and groans, “I missed you.”

Loki crumbles into the hug and sucks his brothers scent in til he's full. Somewhere inside it's healing something. Calming down a shrilling nerve. Lokis cheek nestles against Thors like having never belonged anywhere else.

They kiss then, finally, and Thor is tender as they do, suckle each others lips and dip their tongues together.

Loki decides he needs some more, though, and with a pretty sighs he leans in deeper, letting all the tension go, to part Thors lips wide like a mellow fruit to be noshed out. Thor can't but answer him with relish.

If only lungs wouldn't need air, they would remain feeding each other like this all day long.

It's Thor who frees himself with a smile from his brothers consuming need then. He places his mouth against a white forehead instead. Loki gives a tiny moan.

“Two days ... really?”

“Yes, Hel.”

“Seems like I needed a break. Sorry.”

“How are you now?”

“Better.” _With you._ Loki shifts to kiss Thors jawbone.

“That's good … _good_ … “, Thor rumbles, not only fond of Lokis well being but also discreetly spoilt by that sweet and teasing suction warming his skin. Loki lets go with a precious little _popp_ and blows the spot he nursed like one would blow a childs cut finger.

“Would you kill Fandral if I asked you to, though?”

Thor chuckles. “He's quite the beast for sure.”

“He read your letter before he gave it to me.”

At this the Thunderer makes a face but doesn't really mean it. “Ah - should have known he would. Good thing I didn't write some dirty stuff, hu?”

And Loki chuckles, too.

“What did you tell him, though? He seems to know a bit too much for my taste.”

“Not that much actually. He figured out most things on his own. He told _me_ a lot, to be honest, and I blushed over most of it. You have no clue what Fandral _really_ knows, really.”

“That is disturbing!”

“Just a little.”

As they synchronously sigh the same exhausted but content sound they end up laughing softly.

“He told _me_ ”, Loki starts, “that you didn't like to leave me alone. Is that … true?”

“Yes.”

“And you left only if you had to?”

“Yes”, Thor huffs, snuggling Lokis temple.

“So, if father called … or mother … or Sif … ?”

“Sif?” Thor chuckles about something that he doesn't care say aloud. “She didn't see much of me lately.”

The ginger guard crosses Lokis mind but a heartbeat long, yet she wouldn't be stupid enough to tell Thor she cheated on him, would she? _Loki_ could tell him though, but he doesn't want that bitchy twerp to ruin this moment with his brother for him now.

“I spent the nights here”, Thor adds, hands laying down warm onto Lokis hips and pulling them closer like for slow dancing. Loki smiles like a coy girl, heart pounding to extremes for at least five beats. A joy like perfume powders all his senses dull.

“Where did you sleep?”

“In bed, where else.”

“ … with me?”

“Of course with you”, Thor chuckles. As if there was no thing more natural to him. As if this wasn't special.

To Loki it is nonetheless, and treasuring the taste of it he finds himself pressing shut his eyelids, searching to recall the distant sensation of it all.

“I hoped you'd feel me”, Thor goes on, now only breathing, his words rawer and sensual at once.

Lokis lashes flutter, giving his eyes a slit to peer to the floor as suddenly the jitters hit him hard again.

 _I did_ , he wants to say, _somehow I did_. Alas, it won't get out.

It's about time something happened now, isn't it? The oils are nearly screaming to be brought up as the next glorious topic. It's just like the phial in Lokis pocket pulls heavier, what makes it all the worse for him. Loki feels his every inch of skin _so much_. And with one shudder to the next he means to feel so much of _Thors_ , cozy and sheethot, from the depths of his memories …

However, Thor doesn't seem too urging and Loki's not only a little baffled by it. Heartbeats and heartbeats pass, no other hint, no mere suggestion follows. He would have sworn he'd be just taken and thrown around again once they were alone. Considering Thors temper.

Why do things _stretch_ so terribly? This one time that he craves his brother to free him of the burden of choice the Oaf won't even force a hair of his to bow! Lokis gaze stays glued to the tome he let flop from his hands earlier.

“Always reading, are you? … ”, Thor says, having followed his look down, “ … That reminds me … I had some time to think, had I? And I thought it's strange you sleep in your daybed. I have such a daybed too, but rarely ever sleep in it. I have my bedchamber. So I found your bedchamber. And the reason why you don't use it.”

“ … so, did you?” Loki cocks his brows and glances up, taken off guard. Somehow this gets his hackles up more than it should. First, it's a distraction leading nowhere he would aim at now. Second, it's a sore spot to be honest. Loki can't help himself and arms up for defense.

What does Thor think he found in that _cell_? He rarely ever set a foot in there late off and only uses it as a lumber room for books he read out long ago. He didn't ever like it there. For a particular reason. How does Thor think he found _that_ out?

It's not like Loki smeared onto the walls with his very blood that he doesn't need an extra chamber for the night to keep the arrival hall of his living quarters all formal and representing royal prestige because _no goddamn one, no fiend nor lickspittle_ would ever care to pay him a visit anyway and thusly he doesn't need to have his daybed pretty made and tidy all the time. He didn't scratch _I'm lonely and my nightbed remains cold without a lover warming it_ into the marble floor either. Nor did he ever collect buckets of loner tears in there labeled as _no one ever visits me so I'm gonna flood this redundant room with my weeping waters_.

Somehow Loki doesn't like the thought of Thor digging in his privacy like this. He doesn't like the thought of him having set foot into a goddamned matter that is none of his concern and all without permission. It's like he set his thoughtless foot into a wound.

Meanwhile Thor literally beams with pride, waiting for Loki to make him continue. Loki frowns.

“I don't get what's so wrong with sleeping in that exact room in which I do nearly everything else. It's functional.”

“Mmmmh, yes … sure, but ... ”, is that a blush on Thors face? “Don't you think it's dangerous? We are connected to the public corridors here. It's not safe. Even if the portal is thick, erm … more doors slug more sounds, don't they?”

Loki blinks.

_We?_

Loki gulps.

_Sounds?_

Oh, suddenly his chest is hot and tight. Now he get's it. The oils were not the only prearrangements Thor came up with.

_You're really making plans, are you?_

“I … see”, he gets out, awkwardly clearing his throat, “and, alright … so what now? What about that other room?”

Thor smirks and bites his lower lip in a just too good way. Loki gulps again.

“You had these piles of books in there all over the place, one couldn't walk two steps without jumping. I got you shelves and stowed them away. The old bed cracked, though, as I stacked the books on top of it to assort them in size …”

 _Ewww._ His books assorted by _size_ does not directly have something to do with Lokis personal system of keeping his books in order (wow, is THAT brushed the wrong way), but -

“ … I didn't want to carry the daybed over with you still sleeping in it, so - and I wasn't sure if you'd want that at all or would rather prefer a new one for the night - so I waited.“

\- but what is most important now is that Thor truly proposes placing _their_ bed in a room where they needn't care about what sounds they made.

This is worth fainting. Dangerously much. But Loki had enough of fainting lately.

“What, you say”, he giggles nervously, amazed in disbelief and finding himself helpless, nonsense babbling helpless, “you tidied up my whole private library mere a stones throw away handling and smashing furniture and I did NOT wake up? How insane is this?”

But he reminds himself to smirk up heartily apologetic at his brother and his efforts, trying to JUST stop being a killjoy. Things are _happening_ now. Like they always happened. Only that now they would be – awesome!

To his consternation Loki finds gloomy worry in his brothers eyes. Did he say something wrong? He holds his breath, smile freezing.

But it's not that Thor feels snubbed. It's something else.

“You were tired indeed”, Thor mumbles, a grimace only ghosting over his face, telling how earnestly he feared for his brothers good.

"I ... "

A little pain in his throat makes Lokis eyes widen: So this is why Thor's not the storm he usually is. Loki hurt him with his hurt. The worry Loki forced from him made careless Thor finally care. Thor _cares_. Right now.

Somehow Loki sensed so since he was found in Vanaheim. Yet never did he see it clear like this.

It's terrific. It's beautiful.

So beautiful Loki wants nothing more but to make the sorrow born from it disappear.

"I _was_ tired”, he says, “but now I'm not. Show me my bedroom, I am curious what you made of it. You _want_ to show me, you're nearly bursting, aren't you?"

 _Yes!_ That worked out, Loki get's him grinning.

"As you wish ... come, then!"

Thor grabs for Lokis hand and drags him along to the door in the corner at the far side; there they enter a very short bow of a landing leading towards just another portal, one quite orotund thing of beautiful carvings and inlaid works in black wood (Loki _did_ like it, always, but he couldn't ever like the fact that he didn't _need_ it). Behind lies a plain, light room with an outstandingly high ceiling, Loki knows, which appears to be round for the many, many corners that it wears. The countless walls are no wider than a hands width. Every fifths of these folds is a slim, long window reaching top to bottom all around the room, mirrored to the outside and impossible to be peered through. It's actually part of a slim outer tower of the palace, one hosting living quarters only every seventh floor. Illuminated but private. And isolated.

_Oh dear Nine._

Loki shudders deliciously as it hits him. Why didn't he think of this before? It's not just safer or less dangerous.

_It's perfect._

As the door clicks open under Thors hand Loki wonders if his brother even has a clue _how_ perfect this place is. He cannot hide a wry smirk and straightens like an overexcited child, pulse bouncing though his veins, as light from the other side tickles his face.

And it's getting _better_.

"Oh, ... oh these are", he stutters open mouthed as he steps into the middle of the nearly empty room, turning, "where did you get these?"

The shelves Thor mentioned are no less than elven shelves. And that means they are no more but one hexagonal crystal plate on the ground each - levitating rows of books in circles up to the very ceiling of the room. One needn't more but a ring synchronized with the plate to hover between tomes and folios. Simple, elegant, space saving.

There are eight of them placed in a circle like pillars. And darn do they impress.

"You like them", Thor cheers.

"I asked mother if I could get some years ago!"

"Hu? Maybe you forgot to ask again? She had them stored in the vault."

"Really?"

Thor shrugs his shoulders and pecks Lokis scalp. "Now you have them."

Loki shakes his head and only smiles all dopey in his luck: "I've got to thank her."

"Her?” Thor makes some effort to sound scandalized and leans in on Lokis temple, growling raw into his hair: “What about me?”

And suddenly there is that mighty, hungry lion that he is, demanding meat.

Loki trembles with a flash of prickles running down his spine. He doesn't gasp, he keeps himself from doing so, but slightly panting now (because aren't his lungs _mellow_ with heat?) Loki giggles lightheaded and backs away like a snake. There weighs the tiny flask of oil in his pocket, tickling him to slip his fingers round its cooling glass. He grins at Thor, chest heaving more than he would like, yet less than he would need.

"You are not done yet, brother”, he gathers all his courage and excitement, “I'll thank you once you got our bed in here."

With a slow lick over his lips Thor leers right back, the twinkle in his eyes telling sheer stories.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Already got my nextie title btw: "And so Odin decrees"
> 
> DOESN'T THAT SOUND IMPORTANT
> 
>  
> 
> And always mind: the more comments you write the faster I write chapters, I am a battery and charge on virtual love. Just sayin'.


	31. And so Odin decrees

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which you will totally hate me for the Papa parenting parts.  
> In which Thor overdoes the concept of male preorgasmic ejaculation (AGAIN).  
> In which Loki is hyper pissass moody (aaaaagain).  
> In which I lay some subtle but fundamental bases for the 'Snowflakeson'.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> BEWARE! There will be flaws and grammar bitches somewhere but I'm beta blind right now. This has to be posted immediately or I'll die a painful death.

 

 

It's early eve lit by a warm, red sundown and the royal family sits finally reunited for dinner. And _what_ a dinner this is, way too much to eat for the four of them, all sparkling plates filled up with mountains of heavenly foods, sweet and solid, meat and fruit! They could fill all the many guards bellies scattered around the hall if only they wanted to, and easily those of the hushing servants as well: So it is obviously just enough to celebrate the recovery of the youngest prince in cozy privacy.

The silence between parents and sons is somewhat awkward, though.

Thor kneads his temples, frowning a headache away. He changed from formal armor into more comfortable but pompously embroidered clothes of his fabled crimson red and gold, snug yet solemn enough for this quite precarious domestic moment. His feet relax in his softest boots, his belly is full with Asgards finest delicacies (which he nearly _inhaled_ in a whiff of frustration) and a blissful cup of mead stands right in reach for him to grab. But it all doesn't help. He's tense and chippy. And still can't figure out what went so mightily wrong with him and Loki earlier.

Loki was willing, wasn't he? Teasing, beautiful and eager. Giggly and lovestruck and – Nine, did Thor _really_ ruin this all with just one thoughtless phrase?

Thors eyes are glued to his brothers pale and content face. Loki sits busy dipping a stewed seahorse liver into a bowl of powdered sugar and sucking the tiny piece of meat from a long silver fork, moving exemplary elegant as he does, just like a goddamned elven queen would. He doesn't spare Thor but the tiniest glance, the punishing beast. And he wears that terribly, terribly provoking, nearly _sulking_ shade of blue – what is a pure act of defiance actually, he'd _always_ choose green over any other color - just to remind Thor of what they quarreled about earlier.

_Jotun blue._

Odin clears his throat after one slow sip of mead, looking at his younger son suspiciously: “Your appetite is not your brothers angry one, but it seems healthy enough.”

Loki smirks. He doesn't meet Odins eye, and darn, Thor cannot tell if he's just shying or totally stubborn again.

Loki didn't answer even one of fathers questions concerning his mysterious absence anywhere near satisfactorily for now. He sidestepped them (and still does), skilled as he is with words. And thusly leaves the mighty Allfather no wiser than before and groping in the dark.

Odin does not quite seem to want to push his son, yet still there is that unmistaken doubt towards Lokis amnesia and the iron intention to clear things up written all over his withered face.

Frigga sighs with a forgiving smile: “Remember, spouse dear, our younger has never been as sturdy as our first”, and addressing Loki directly she continues, “you're back with us at last, and this is all I ask for.”

“Thank you, mother”, Loki speaks up, words sleek like either from earnest modesty or simply a politicians shrewdness, “I can only repeat myself if I affirm you once again how very sorry I am to have caused so much concern. You know if I could, if only I knew to recall whatever made me vanish and where to, I would swear to never let it happen again.”

_Liar._

Thors eyes are slits.

_You know exactly where you've been._

And Thor knows it as well. Well, nearly. He knows where Loki's been after the incident in the library and he knows what reasons made him disappear the morning after. But he does not know _where_ his brother disappeared to. He was found in Vanaheim, yes. But Loki himself claimed to not have spent his whole being away there, and this he did in a state somewhat out of his mind and self and his inborn ability of lying. He _did_ tell the truth by that therefore. What left a gap of one day and a night of unknown sojourn.

And wasn't this what they happened to argue about mere an hour ago in what appeared to be the most odd and unfitting place and situation – tangled up in bed, having a wild, hard rut?

_Dear Norns, why did I have to bring this up at all?_

As much for that, Thor does not quite know how to do the so called dirty talk it seems. But once the trigger word was out and Loki freaked for it Thor was gridlocked. He didn't like the thought of any secrets between them. Of course he didn't get his way, he just got thrown off a very angry and disgusted Loki refusing to tell a thing. And wasn't _that_ suspicious? If only he had chuckled and shrugged the matter away, Thor would have believed that he'd been _nowhere_ else but in Vanaheim, no matter what he'd claimed before. Yet that things got Loki so flustered had Thor thinking. There must have happened _something_ in that time gap, right?

Thor can't but groan at the mere memory. Loki sent him SO packing then, it was downright classical.

“Gobbled too fast once more, brother?” Lokis voice is a razor of a mock. “One might think that you learned by now how to relish your pleasures with duly caution.”

Mother chuckles at Thors seemingly upset stomach. And Odin gives a blaming but loving sigh.

_Just grin, you tease. This is not over yet._

 

 

*

*

*

 

 

With a groan of strength Thor slammed the bed furiously into the very center of the room. The round form circled by those overawing pillars of books didn't seem to suggest any other position for it but the sucking middle of attention. This would be a sacred chamber for one purpose alone, and that purpose stood now ceremoniously embodied by sheets and pillows like a sacrificial altar there, waiting for them to yelp and scream and spill their body juices out on it.

Thor's blood was racing at this point. He had that odd, flowery way of thinking once his pulse beat drum blows down his loins. He would have _served_ his beautiful Loki on their altar. He would have spread his legs and stabbed the cries out of his throat and wet their sacred place with his fluids; heart sweat, pleasure milk and tears of bliss!

_Our bed._

That had his lust on, dear. Just now he realized how intimate a symbol sharing a sleeping place could actually be. Dripping from Lokis tongue the hint turned out to be an aphrodisiac like no other. And Thor had licked it up with effect.

When he straightened slowly, predatorily, he glared from under his big cat lashes at his brothers panting form, standing lonely and unprotected there. Lokis face was rosy flushed. And his eyes shone by the force of muscles just presented to him. He chewed his lips and smiled, gently sinking his delicate hand into one of his pockets to slide something out. Nearly caressing it with the tips of fingers he held a shiny object up for Thor to see; a flask of oil.

So he had found them.

“Thank you”, the little sinner breathed, “and now pray tell … ”, dear _Gods_ , he panted all too pretty all the way, his skin _too tight_ it seemed, “ … how will I ever be able to repay you?”

Thor was totally hard then. He purred deep in his throat: “I'd know a way.”

“I bet you do.”

Lunging forward Thor nearly lost it, however, and found himself one little moment scared of his own hunger as his hips suddenly thrust out fiercely and out of his control. He brought his force shaking body to an abrupt stop barely a step away from Loki. His thick fists shook at his sides, his erection was a _weight_ now, nearly unbearable and leaving him lightheaded. He would have angrily relished in ripping the robes in his way off Lokis body with but his bare teeth. But he glimpsed the flask of oil. And remembered that _what they do now_ couldn't have worked without proper preparation.

_Damn._

He howled, his face contrite: “Three Norns and Hel, WAIT!”

Thor threw himself back off in a harsh run. He'd have to release at least _once_ before being safe on Loki. They didn't want the blood again, did they? And he was _hungry_ now, too much to be a silken lover right away. His patience wouldn't ever have lasted through stretching his brothers sweet, tight hole sufficiently before – they would have needed a solution for this next time, really. But for now … well.

Bad thing a hand got hold of Thors wrist before he could screw off, holding him back. Eyes hot with fever Thor glared back over his solid shoulder. Loki didn't really want to challenge him?

“What, why … ?” Lokis gaze flickered, concerned for a moment. Nearly rejected, dear Nine!

 _Oh, cunning you, how are you sly like no one else and yet as naïve as a virgin?_ Thor grinned a shark tooth, spurred on only dangerously _more_ by Lokis insecurity.

“I'll be right back.”

“But - ”

“YOU! PREPARE”, Thor demanded then, inspired by the swelling loss of self control gaining speed over speed in his veins; he even baffled himself with this sudden idea. But it _was_ an idea, wasn't it?

Lokis eyes went wide, so startled was he then, lips parting but staying out of words. Thor, groaning with that building volcano rumble in his loins, got his wrist free.

He wanted to run then and probably should have, but he couldn't really part with his brothers sight. That moment Loki was simply glorious to look at, just so _catching_. Only then did Thor realize what he'd just asked of him!

Loki inhaled ... _slowly_ … there was confusion, hesitation, only the instinctual hint of submission (and shame), there was that _tasty_ defiance tearing at his delicate features. But then, over everything else, there throned appreciation in the end. And a sudden smile splitting his mouth as he crept off, playfully nearing _the altar._ Thor felt his manhood jerk as he witnessed his brother realize what mighty, mighty strings he actually pulled in this: Loki bit his lip with a testing frown, plopped the flask of oil open and sensually dipped a first finger inside. Then he skulked farther off giggling as Thor groaned with an all too visible urge and literally _fled_ out of the room.

Panting Thor slammed the door shut behind himself and leaned his back like a wardrobe against it, leaving Loki caught on the other side.

He tore some random parts of armor from his chest, his cape went down, he kicked away both boots and threw off that heavy hauberk which landed to his feet with a loud rattle. Then eagerly he ripped open his belt, releasing his meaty brutality into his own raw fists (it nearly sprang at him, he felt like _catching_ it) and drove it thick and throbbing as is was through his grip like running a race, rutting his hips frantically like a mating hare would (and he hoped _he_ wouldn't faint after this first come). Thor nearly wrung himself out as he pulled and joggled that beast of his off. Harsh grunts shot out his throat, he grit his teeth to muffle them, but he couldn't help the whams his spasming body gave against the door behind him.

He didn't last all too long. And Gods, he _couldn't_ , knowing Loki flopped onto bed this very moment, slipping off his claes and … being but the most obedient little tease the world had ever seen.

That he'd gotten him there _at all_ was a sheer wonder.

A wretched sound broke free from Thors mouth as he spilled into his palm. Thin, hard spouts of it gushed out from between his fingers into all directions. And he couldn't have cared ANY less, really. Wheezing both with aftershocks and thrills of anticipation Thor stood on wobbles for some time, breathing his molten muscles back where they belonged.

Then he smiled, absently coating and caressing his spent weapon with what still dribbled out of its big, slack form.

Would Loki have been done by now? There was only one way to find out.

He tossed even his last pieces of clothes aside and took a deep breath in his complete nudity, treasuring this moment, before slowly, careful not to make a sound, Thor opened the door wide enough to to sneak inside.

And he actually (!) managed to do so without his brother noticing.

The lights on the other side were phenomenal indeed. The installation of these peculiar windows really paid a tribute to the scene. Thor _'_ d _known_ Loki to make quite a view in here once finally bare (like he preferred him best). And exactly so the varlet lay cream like moonstone in bouffant sheets, his fine forms waist down hidden but _suggested_ beneath a stream of wildly folding cloth. Loki had his chest arched up a bit, hips shifted sideways, and was visibly concentrated on _whatever_ his right hand fumbled on or _in_ there down his back. The flask of oil rolled against his other shoulder, neatly corked up but emptied by half. With his eyes closed he gave a little sound and gasped as a tremor ran up his spine, leaving him twitch and lay his hair a beautiful waste on his pillow. The way his lashes fluttered and how tenderly he pursed his lips then literally sang of what a pleasant feeling that must just have been.

Whetting his appetite.

“ _Owww_ Nine”, Loki suddenly moaned deep from his lungs with another jerk. Totally stunned, panting short, mewing sounds like three times in a row, he decided to confide his breathless disbelief in the wide room surrounding him: “I - hit _myself_ \- ”

Thor grinned deliciously. Now how adorable was _that_? He grit his teeth to keep from humming, getting just SO ready for that steaming hot main dish presented there in front of him. With the headstart he had given himself he was sure to be quite the duly wallower now. One who was capable of pulling at least _some_ nice stings as well, puppet master Loki as his partner in crime or not.

_Who's the needier of us now?_

“That is the spirit, dirty thing”, Thor purred and shut the door. Loki totally jolted out of his awkward self spoiling.

“Oh, you were ... quick”, he mumbled with a blush, slipping his working hand some place less raunchy like by instinct. Loki clearly lost some of his newly discovered seduction skills that moment, seeming not yet practiced enough to be much confident. Instead he chose to be bashful again, but _oh_ was that a good look on him still.

Thor neared with slow, long paces, enjoyed all his naked steps and Lokis eyes on him. He felt downright imposing as he replied: “And you were biddable, I see. What a _good_ boy you are, indeed.”

Loki chuckled, shy but somehow ... somehow _ludic,_ that coltish cheek.

“Yes, I … I'm not sure if I did that right, though”, he admitted, such a pretty pink adorning his face, “or good enough, I … “ He shrugged and cocked his brows, the round pools of his eyes asking a lot.

“Oh? Is that so?”

Thor jumped into bed without warning then, landing carnivore style above Loki on all four and grinning ear to ear at the squeal he received from below. Loki slapped his biceps for the fright. But he laughed and sighed out giggly as a heavy forehead bumped against his own. Thor slumped down to his knees and bent his elbows like a drinking lion.

“You say my task is too tricky for you?”

“Tricky is not the _word_ , but … “

“But you need some help, baby bird, do you?”

“Ahhhm, … “

“You _want_ help, birdling, don't you?”

Loki smirked and hid half his face with his dry hand: “How are you _calling_ me … ?”

Thor grinned and cut his brother short with a kiss that spread their mouths up wide enough to be an echoing cave for a deep, possessive growl. Loki mewed into the vibration of it and tongued the warm hollow between them full at once. But Thor pulled back with a smirk to leave Loki hissing at the prank.

Slowly he stretched his muscular legs out then, balance focused in his wrists and toes alone, and lowered his hips into his brothers lap, making himself heavy but not yet full weight, to playfully press Loki down.

There was that _particular,_ delicate firmness procuring back up at him through the sheets. Thor let out a grunt and found his own club directly tickled curious again. Meanwhile Loki arched out his neck and sighed with pleasure. And didn't he just spread his legs a bit as Thor grew solid against his loins?

Pushing his body up again Thor was rewarded with two hands snatching out for his hips, one dry, one slick, that downright pleaded for the lost touch to return.

“Uh, look who's begging there.”

“You bastard”, Loki snarled, eyes closed, brows risen up dramatically. Thor took his time and lazily gawped at the luring, bobbing throat trying in vain to gulp a whine down. All Nine, it was an incarnate _outcry_ to be teased, really, making him actually consider to have Loki wear turtlenecks in future; that neck was a privy place in its own dear right, that line, that angle and these veins …

_How dare you show this off in public anyway?_

But then he smiled at his silly thoughts and slowly grind his hips back down, harder this time, just to repeat the whole, tense, muscle boasting move over again, lapping across that larynx every time. Loki appeared impressed enough to gently meet Thors playful thrusts with tossing and humming for more. The blanket rubbed so perfectly between them.

Yet then eventually Loki decided it was time for straight talk, even if he seemed to have some troubles concentrating.

“Brother ... please stop it a moment.”

“Mmmmhhhh ...”, made Thor, “tease doesn't like being teased, hu … ?”

“I just can't – focus.”

“But you like it?”

“I lo- _oww_ … ve it, _love_ it, oaf. Yet still.”

Thor smirked, chuffed with his work and jumping back up onto hands and feet again.

“What is it, love? You need more time to … ?” _get prepared?_

“No”, Loki chuckled, “I had three fingers in and was fine.”

“Uhm, that is good”, Thor guessed.

“Probably. But ... I would prefer you checking on me, too.” He merely breathed the last words, cheeks aflame and face totally serious. “Just to see if you can fit three of _yours_ in. That was about good last time. And your fingers are bigger than mine in the end, so … just to prevent some nasty pangs.”

Thor smiled from his heart at this honest request. It made things kinda mutual between them, didn't it? Like they had rarely been before.

He bowed approvingly to nose cuddle his brother and said: “Of course. All you might ask.”

“Oh”, Lokis eyes shone at once with this seldom opportunity given, “and, uhm, would you … ?”

“Yes?”

“Couuuuuld you … “ Now _that_ took him some effort. Loki exhaled and swallowed on his pride. Thor waited patiently.

“Could you try to start it ssss- … mh. Ahm ... slow? Please?”

Uh. Slowsexing hadn't ever been one of Thors talents. But he wasn't expected to sustain that killing pace all through, right? He _could_ have managed some ab initio reserve. And for Loki Thor would have tried drinking the whole cosmos empty. Especially if he _entreated_ like that.

“All you might ask. I'll do my everything, don't fear.”

Thor knew then, the smile shining up at his face from below proved it like the gem heart of a star, he hadn't ever made Loki happier. He was pulled into a stormy kiss, two arms snaking around his neck, two legs locking themselves around Thors waist and knees, making him slump out of his balance. A heartbeat further and he crashed full impact down into his brothers lap, making them squirm and yelp for air like one.

“Whohhfff”, Thor gasped as he felt his pulse race hot through his body with these _circles_ rubbed against his shaft, “you want me tender, don't you push your luck, brother!”

Loki threw his head back with laughter, ending in a drunken sigh.

“Fine, fine”, Thor smirked and broke free from that lolling cage of limbs lazily holding him. He flopped cross legged to Lokis feet, the mattress making him bounce. And with a lightsome grin naked Thor pulled the blanked from his brothers form to level their playing field even. Of course he growled deep in his throat as he did.

Loki, lying flat and panting, writhed himself comfortable but didn't mean to hide away it seemed. Thor found that far too sensual in fact and tried not to pat Lokis prettily curved length down all too much with his greedy glances. He felt his balls grow hot and heavy as the waters gathered in his mouth.

However, on his elbows Loki for his part took one moment to indulge in staring at Thors geared up and lusting sword sticking so strong and fleshy up from his crotch; as that gaze hit Thors club the Thunderer actually meant to feel his brothers glassy eyes tongue it up base to bulb. Lokis lips twitched subtly, the corners of his mouth curling towards his ears, as he playfully glanced into Thors face. Oh, he did this on purpose, didn't he? Thor gulped, his stomach jerking with a fragile traction that ended bitewise in his swelling tip.

Yes, Loki pulled his strings, indeed. And this one led right through Thors goddamned cock.

“I'm waiting”, the naughty pet did dare to say, leaving no doubt at how _shamelessly_ much he wanted at a time; Loki wanted it safe, wanted to play, wanted it all as it seemed. The impossible combination of gently slow and frenzied wild probably. How was one man meant to manage that, and one completely flustered by such need and beauty! Alas, Thor would have been in for _anything_ with this impertinent boy.

“Alright”, he grunted, “then show me the fruits of your work.”

He grabbed for Lokis hips so promptly he earned himself a yelp of surprise again. With a triumphant cackle the Thunderer manhandled his prey around and threw it belly down into the sheets. He forced Lokis butt high up into sight so self evidently like fastening a saddle on his mare. Loki let out a squealy huff as the air was pumped out of his lungs.

“Now _there's_ a good boy”, Thor mocked, stroking his brothers buttocks as Loki instinctively gave in to the sudden physical conquest with tugging himself onto his knees, supporting his arched back.

Loki clawed his fists into the sheets, though, stubborn suddenly, and grumbled something sulky: “You want me from behind again? I am no cow!”

“Nonsense”, Thor cooed, “I only wish to _see_ if you are ready.”

“Khe … could have _felt_ for that. No need to stare into my abyss.”

“Abyss, hu? But _needle eye_ didn't do it for you?”

Loki groaned at the no-go body part nickname reference and dug his face even deeper down his pillow, all the too cute shame again. But he let Thor do as he pleased. And Thor, having Lokis hind cheeks palmed like babies, only smiled, took a deep breath and sighed.

Now came the harder part, that of concentrated caution. And that of fierce self control.

Gently he spread the cushions of his brothers bum. His nape prickled, his temples pumped. The air was warmer now, wasn't it? Warm and thick. Opium.

Lokis cleft lay open there, wet with oil, rosy blushed and very, very private. And _tempting_ , Norns. Thor gulped. His manhood echoed with all at once fuming demand.

He slid the tips of his thumbs over the the crinkly, poppy ring, thrusting them in to stretch and test his brothers preparation. He found the tiny muscle strong but giving under his play and couldn't keep from purring pleased. His thumbs parted the small entrance like a pair of cute lips, smacking as they snapped apart. Loki let out a fragile, muffled yelp that hit Thor like the touch of bliss.

“I would tongue kiss you there”, he confessed from whatever dozy corner of his stripped and honest soul. The opening clenched down on him at this, freezing for a moment, but if so with shock or zeal Thor couldn't make out. He only heard his brother snarl something like _swine_ into his pillow. So Thor just chuckled, dizzy and glowing like from mead.

His right pointer and middle finger followed the dive like on their own volition then. He plopped his thumbs back out and eventually replaced them deep with a third digit. It went down smoothly, tightly pressed into its comrades, but gliding, oh ... so _easily_ like juice down a thirsty throat. Lokis tender walls pulsated.

_Yes._

White shoulder blades twitched and Loki moaned like a lamb. Thor wet himself with a gush of leak and couldn't help but snatch around his shaft, _hold on_ , stroking its proud, long height until it was all stony, smeary meat.

_Hold it._

Loki nearly caterwauled as Thor stretched him slowly, just to be sure of things, fingers parting and snatching back together in a heartbeat rhythm. The door turned out as _willing_ , beautifully so, opening for Thors spreading penetration and clutching down around the good intruder every once it made itself smaller again.

Loki was ready.

“So nice … so well done, love”, Thor purred with a brain swimming in steam, “you did so _well_ … ” He pumped his shaft, cruel but never ever _tight_ enough, and only squeezed more pressure into his already too swollen peak.

Loki meanwhile gave a squirm and sighed in the praise. And didn't he gently rock back into Thors fingering, getting himself just a bit more of it?

Thor was by no means to _blame_ as his face sank closer, mouth hot with a lions hunger. He just _had_ to spread that naughty little rim open, press his mouth against his own knuckles, his cheek against a lovely hind cheek, and just … blow his whole lungs out, moaning it all deep down that sinful hole.

Loki gasped out loud, hit completely off guard by such an unexpected, lewd sensation. His spine arched like – _impossible_ – and his tongue mouthed the filthiest curse it knew outlying every language ever spoken.

Then he jerked away. Thor startled but a heartbeat long until he found amusement in his brothers rough appall.

“Back off! I'm not EVER gonna kiss you again if you do that!”

“IS that so”, Thor sneered.

Then he caught the flouncing butt just before it could roll over, pulled it back up to his face and pecked Lokis plushy entrance, just one sweet moment long, and laughed as that pretty bootie jerked away again. Loki groaned really hoarse this time. Thor slapped his buttocks with a grin; how dared these brattish things squeeze themselves shut from his touch at all?

But alright. WELL, well!

Loki glared over his shoulder then (the slap had him kind of petrify), eyes glassy from what could have both been shame and lust, and his face burned as Thor just smirked, licking his lips with a sound of pleasure.

“Tastes good enough for me.”

“You – CREEP”, Loki choked, but he could by no means hide his terrible amazement. Then he melted from his paralysis and sneaked around to sit cross legged, too, like Thor did, facing his bodacious brother with a glare that had no equal in all Realms.

Of course Thor jumped at him. What else could he have done, really?

A playful roar mixed with a cry for help as they stumbled into one another. The bed squealed under the impact of Thors wrestler move. Then Loki lay belly up under him like he'd done before.

Lokis anger was promptly forgotten, it seemed, as all this _body_ crashed into his own; he instantly threw his head back with what must have felt _too_ good and opened his mouth wide, free from all shame.

Thor shook his head like crazy as he only saw but didn't _hear_ Lokis outcry, his ears giving up their service at HOW gorgeously his much too itchy length just rammed against his brothers squirming tummy.

And out of a complete sudden (alright, at least it seemed like that) Thors arms had Lokis thighs heaved open and around his hips. And out of another sudden he had himself flopped down between them, eagerly hustling his weapon under Lokis bum, penetrating his brothers cleft as well as the mattress like carving out a mold marking that _Thor was here_.

Thors ears cleared open again. He heard them both huff dearly for air. Once again his forehead bumped against Lokis. And he grunted. And Lokis lids fluttered.

Then out of an even more important sudden things went totally serious. This was the moment. Thor felt the rivers of his blood gush through his veins.

“Alright?” He merely cawed, his voice rough with restraint.

Loki just nodded. His hands palmed Thors face as if clinging to an anchor then, shaky and damp at once. Nine, he was nervous, close to _scared ..._ but yet willing to trust.

Thor tightened all his muscles round himself, caging his thunder and greed inside, as his hips bucked even closer, spreading Lokis cheeks. There was the hint of a cramp in his shoulders.

_Slow._

He'd promised to, hadn't he?

_Show him you can. Be slow._

Uh Nine, was THAT a challenge, however.

_Show him. Love him. He'll love me so. Just make this slo..... o-oo-ooow..._

The first round part of Thors tip knocked gently at a warm threshold (and Thor blinked like an idiot) before carefully nudging in. Lokis hole didn't seem to be hurting from the growing size taking its entrance. Thor was slick from his leak, Loki perfectly oiled, yet somehow he felt stuck suddenly. He WAS a big one in the end. And Loki, even stretched like this, squeezed tightly around his head, at this point snatched on the middle of it as it seemed.

Thors breath cut itself short, he stared into his brothers face – Loki lay closed eyed there, his features twitching – and one heartbeat long he feared he wouldn't have fit in without force. But then a little push sufficed and he felt his puffy head slide into Loki like a plug. Thor drew a deep hiss in until his lungs were full to aching. The air was drawn aflame with silken flames for him, teasing and licking at his self control. For the worst of it Lokis body hesitantly clenched (and he bit his cute lip) as if to allow himself to feel the intruder opening him.

Thor was panting from holding his hips in place as he repeated himself: “ … alright?”

Loki nodded again, still palming Thors stubbly cheeks. “Yes”, he mewed.

“More then?”

_Damn. Wait. WRONG choice of words._

“More”, Loki echoed obediently, far too absorbed by concentration to think of any other reply. His voice broke in a way too beautiful way.

Thor should have _known_ that this particular word plopping from his brothers mouth would have caused him a pang through his stone hard length.

_More._

Gods, yes, _there_ was it, that could just as good have been a flash lashing its way into Thors slit and up his veiny trunk, knotting itself into the most effective nests of pain inside his balls. Thor felt tears wetting his eyes as he wheezed out. But he stayed iron calm (Nine, HOW?) and slowly, _slowly_ pushed in deeper, ignoring all the vicious bites down in his loins.

Fortunately with a little time the act got easier again.

The muscles in Lokis thighs meanwhile moved and jerked ever so gently under their skin (Thor felt them at his sides with terrific shivers), but Loki merely panted at being dug open like a cave for diamonds. He was totally brave, to be honest, considered that this was particularly his first time _really_ experiencing this. There'd been the nightmare on the mountain, then he had fainted in the mirror and then next time he'd practically dreamed through the whole thing. Yet he took every inch, every single, strong bit shoved up into him and didn't seem to plan on stopping before having engulfed all that Thor had to offer. Which was still quite _a lot_.

Through the veils of his terrible need Thor distantly marveled at his baby brothers courage.

It was quite strange, Thor found however, that Loki appeared so goddamned tight again. It wasn't like he was a virgin to such intercourse, but still. Seemed like Thors place in him was a thing to be earned each time over anew.

In between their breaths (Thor paused his go once in a while to untangle his lungs and let Loki adjust) Loki softly clenched around Thors member. That had him freeze and hiss like from a sting (at least as much as Thor could tell, _he_ nearly blacked out every time). But Loki wouldn't be stopped and only stroked Thors face, encouraging him to go on and distracting his fraught self.

He probably had no clue how much Thor actually clung to the touch of his fingertips then. The soothing pads were helping him so much to focus and keep things right.

Somehow then, somewhen _finally_ Thor was down, though, rooted to the very bottom of his length. He hooted softly, the triumph of having succeeded in this torture overwhelming him. One insane heartbeat long he pined after actually squeezing his hurting balls, too, into that clutching seat his brothers warmth offered his flesh and let himself be squished to the most glorious of deaths. Not that this would have been any kind of possible. Thor knew as much as that. But … _ohw_.

Lokis ankles locked behind his back then and Thor felt a pair of heels gently pressing down his spine like giving him a first shy signal that soon he'd be allowed out of this fiercest self command. Loki breathed against Thors lips from under him, tight drawn, before opening his eyes and smiling. Then he blinked again, however, glimpsing restlessly to and fro as his body gave another clutch around Thors flesh. Loki shifted ever so carefully to test the immense stretch penetrating him.

Thor felt a sting in his knee (and a pang somewhere else) from violently keeping calm. But lionhearted as he was he managed to, his flanks trembling with tension like a good mares would waiting for the rowel to gallop.

“That's good”, Loki whispered then, humming as he carefully inched round the imposing thorn spreading him open, “that is … good ...” He slung his arms around Thors neck.

Thor let his head fall down into the crook of Lokis shoulder, bucked his hips only just and snuggled into the faintest hint of friction granted. He felt embers where their bodies met and whined from agony, pleading to just be freed for the race at last.

Loki caressed Thors nape, cooing all out of breath: “Stay … just, _ah_ … stay … ”

So they only dandled their bodies at first. Tenderly so. Thor stayed. There was a needle shooting through his poor, squeezed shaft but against all his animal craving he somehow kept himself from stabbing Loki like a part of him would have just _loved_ to. No, he was better than that. And only licked his brothers skin like the devoted dog that he had learned to be.

Loki sighed louder with each tiny move that his body slid. His heels pressed harder for support now. He dared to rock his hips more fluently with every squirm and played himself on Thors bow like an instrument. Until he was tuned. For a greater symphony to come.

Thor got pulled into a luscious kiss that almost suffocated Lokis whispered _now_ : The sign he had been craving. His hips instantly stuttered into his brothers pace that was now hungrily gaining speed under him. He pulled out and found himself set his first strike back in before he even could rejoice. The flash of it had him see universes.

And Loki loved it. He licked that sound against Thors tongue. He sang that _note_ into his mouth. And his suckleworthy curve, Thors precious lollipop, squeezed up tight against the throne heirs belly, bobbed with lust.

He _loved_ it.

Thors heart beat full with rapture. He merely breathed in grunts thenceforth.

They were a mess then shortly after, of course they were, a moaning bundle of entangled limbs. Loki was loud. He sighed and groaned and hissed from seemingly infinite lungs. Thor rode them both undone, the sudden liberty nearly too much for him to handle, and lost his senses more each time he found his brother quiver from the pleasure that his force shot into him.

Somehow Thor was like by pure accident learning how to angle his strikes best to hit that focal point of lust in Lokis body while his weapon passed in. This was not all too simply done, though, and made Thor absently smirk as the phrase _'The art of Lovemaking'_ suddenly made sense to him. But soon enough he hit home almost every third or fifth thrust and made Loki loll like a drunken lynx cub in his arms, sobbing sheer melodies.

There was potential to this still, however. Thor grinned as a near orgasm shudder sparked up his stomach. Ambition hit him with full force and suddenly he craved over anything else to practice this to perfection. The future King of Asgard would never have been satisfied with less than highscore, goes without saying.

He slid out half the way, straining his buttocks so abruptly that they quivered, and crouched to bend his cock upwards for some quite nice degrees. The rim holding it squelched at this upended stretch and smacked loud enough to not be drowned out by Lokis gasp. Aware of each of his muscles Thor thrust his whole body up then, kneeling and hitting home the hardest way he'd managed to by now. Lokis outcry was _phenomenal_. Thor humped his back the very moment his balls still swung and tugged Loki close enough to press their bodies into one thing. Loki in turn arched in assistance of this act. They were a wave this time, no boat, no sailor. Just the untamed ocean, flooding into one another.

Somehow Loki pulled himself nearly completely off his brothers trunk as he, clawing down the fleshy muscles of two shoulders, pushed his chest up across Thors with a yelp that only drowning yelp _._ Then headlong they crashed down, bouncing on the mattress.

Thor groaned, his body shook with an overwhelming tremor at the fall which had him strike his lance back in to the base with such intensity he meant to actually feel fragile, fine veins pulse out from Lokis clutching walls.

And only then Thor really felt that _pull_ eating at his tip where it throbbed in its deepest place to conquer … but by no means the end of thing. That world in his brothers body, Thor felt it was tiny, nearly _bursting_ around the pressure of his size, yet still he could only assume where it ended.

Urd, Skuld and Verdani, maybe Loki was able to take even bigger men than Thor himself was, trying in vain to thrust on his edges.

It was then that it had him _infected_. There were fatal thunderclaps rolling in on the skies outside.

Thor whinged out a groan as Lokis walls clenched into a milking rhythm around his flesh like trying to suck more meat from him than his body had ever grown. And he couldn't shake off the atrocious thought of these walls clenching just like this around some other man, some thicker, longer, even rougher than himself. A fit to not only threatening to make Lokis rim bleed (like Thor had done) but one to bump completely into his core and nurse a darker hunger there than the Thunderer would ever have been witnessing his brother yaw.

Thor shouted with his next thrust, setting him deep but no inch _deeper_ , damn, try as he may, and suddenly he was close to throw up from this unknown limitation as much as a seriously sick attack of jealousy: His mothers words from yesterday returned to him and overcame him like a tidal wave, making the most perverted sense just now.

“My lovely son”, she had sighed at Lokis bedside, gently stoking his cheek, and then, turning to Thor, “I fear something unspeakable has happened to your brother … “

If only she had not ever put that bug into his ear. It wormed its evil way down into all the twists of the Thunderers mind now.

Imagine Loki, raped by a jotun male! Spread, no, fucked _torn_ by a giant cock beating Thors size in about worlds! HIS Loki, filled by someone else but _him_ , filled UP by one who COULD! It was pure blasphemy. It hadn't even really happened, and … and IF, he should have been shivering from his brothers trauma! But the idea alone made Thor trip from the edge of empathy into green moors of morbid envy. Because - didn't Loki appear _able_ suddenly … in an almost ill natured way?

Thor rammed like there was no tomorrow now, taking completely over, trying to mark all he could fuck as _his_ and _his alone._ Yet there would always have been something he just wasn't meant to reach. Lokis entrance munched around his root as if to bite it through and gulp the fruit down whole. Thor sobbed, outraged and spurred to outer madness. Forgotten was the art of it, forgotten Lokis songs.

Loki in fact had never lost such raw, guttural sounds with Thor before; he used his nails on his brothers back in reply to the unexpected speed, eyes wide and glassy and _amazed_ before they rolled under sweat coated lids, and he could totally have been hurting from this pace by now. Yet then again to give away whatever sort of pain that wasn't at least _somehow_ enjoyed he grind himself too eagerly into the violence stuffing his swollen hind mouth.

If Thor had paid attention he would even have noticed how he tried to fuck his own navel while gulping Thor the other way.

“You”, Loki growled out from the depths of lungs, the sound of it heady intoxicant, “ _destroy_ me.” And licking wild and full tongued all across Thors face he left no doubt at the _amount_ of his desire roused on a completely different level as it seemed.

Thor, sweat and fever dripping from his skin, stuttered in his ploughing at once (and least of all for he felt his eyeball licked) because his brother had him _actually_ sting with panic to disappoint. Loki enjoyed this all too much, it was disturbing. Thor nearly slaughtered him and he … lusted for MORE of it?

Thors erect flesh, frozen in place, was met with a hard, demanding grind from below as the rut didn't go fast enough. Thor gasped, helplessly petrified. He felt the muscle of his cock cringing with pain under its skin, strained close to tearing open, as it was challenged to a duty it felt not ready to surmount.

This was all too much reminding Thor of his throne phobia. And his fear of bedding Sif. Only that this was even _worse_. Because it mattered so much more.

Merely by instinct did he buck his hips then, and only slightly did he move. His cock threw up another, this time somewhat sour gush of leak. Thor was so sick with fright that instant that he rather felt like peeing. Lokis moan _did_ sound impatient, didn't it? Downright displeased.

Oh, this was gross! How had Thor thought his brother fragile just to witness him turn into such a filthy, drooling monster? He'd probably have taken _anyone_ right now if not even a suitable object, could _totally_ have been regaling himself on a jotun spike like this!

Thor grit his teeth. And rutted on, at once obsessed with making himself irreplaceable. He was a GOD! A PRINCE of gods, no, NO, a KING! How DARED Loki not fall apart under his passion? He should have long been crumbling, whining, begging Thor to stop, have mercy with his little body, mercy, because he couldn't HANDLE so much man! But there the mawk urged on and had not even dribbled, that insatiable slut!

_Want more? A bigger one, hu? Want a FROST GIANT riding you out?_

Thors face slapped down against his brothers heaving breastbone and made him feel the arrogating cries from under it buzz directly into his skull, vibrating the last reason out of his mind. Fuck what Loki wanted and how much of it. Thor had own needs, all dying to be fed!

The skin on Lokis chest was flushed and wet with sweat, his nipples puffy buds. Thor writhed towards the nearer one of them to bestially lap and suck it for himself. Loki shrieked at the so far neglected spot of skin abused, downright coughing for air. Thor didn't stop. He thrust in hard between two whorishly spread legs and milked that sinful teat as if to somehow force manna from it to his brutal tongue. To HIS tongue and no others! HIS!

Lightnings struck the horizons like lashing a punishment down on a traitor, but to none of the brothers did they matter now.

Loki was nearly hyperventilating as Thor grimaced and craned his thick neck, that poor nipple plopping out its torture chamber made of angry lips and teeth; a strand of saliva kept it connected to the Thunderer for a sweet, cruel moment longer. But then it glistened lonely there, swollen and left behind.

Yet didn't it deserve just that? Hadn't the tease refused to leak for Thor? Would that malicious pearl have poured out sweets for jotun lips?

Thors spine electrified he snapped with both big claws for Lokis face. His next blow had him thrust his whole chest up to tower threatfully above that bitch that should have been teardrowned and thankful by now for having Thor of Asgard, yes, the throne heirs incomparable cock itself all the way down his hole - and instead just didn't seem to get his fill! Thor wouldn't have lasted forever, what did the thing EXPECT?

“YOU!” Thors voice was the snarl of an animal about to kill.

Lokis eyes sprang open then. He blinked and stared up at his intimidating brother, panting from an open mouth, confused and startled like shaken from ecstasy.

There was rain gushing down onto the palace now. The thunder drummed in closer.

“You're mine”, Thor grunted, each word pressed into his squirming property with a brunt of his cock, “Mine. Mine! MINE!”

Loki writhed and yowled with every strike convulsing his limbs. His body seemed to scream out for his silvertongue long lost in oblivion, cried only _yes_ at it all. His eyes rolled back under their heavy lids as he melted into perfect abandon with a particularly high pitched yelp. And then, perfecting his reply to the rigid demand propounded, he turned in Thors grip and offered his neck to that beast owning him, offered himself in a deeply submissive, animal way. Vulnerable and willingly so.

But to Thor it wasn't enough. To Thor in his raving craze this docile gesture arching Lokis face away and out of his stare actually seemed like _defiance_. And mocking BOREDOM!

He roared, forcing the head he had in his claws back into place, and sent his most punishing shot down this terribly delicious body, a solid pretaste of how wrathful he would have been if his brother had ever dared filling his needs with someone else, someone who _could_. That vicious thwack Thors angry weapon gashed loosened the hardest bolt in the clouds for that day, screeching like a snapping wire rope. Loki jerked like stabbed with a rusty knife, his next sound much rougher than before.

_Now how was THAT? Enough for you?_

Thor roared with triumph as the eyes of his unruly pet lay orbed out wide, his own pleasure long ripping his guts apart, his cock feeling _skinned_ , and shouted into Lokis gaze: “NEVER shall you be had by a FROST GIANT!”

A final flash split the skies, accompanied by a dangerous roll of thunder. They were black paper cuts on their bed there, only the fraction of a heartbeat long.

… and that was it. Totally random actually. And unnecessary. As if Loki would ever have _considered_ bedding a jotun rag. Really.

Thors hips hadn't even stopped riding as he found himself stare his brother down like the possessive idiot that he was.

“ … what -?”

Lokis eyes narrowed to slits instantly reddening and birthing the first shimmers of tears. His spine appeared to freeze and his arms and legs slumped down to the mattress as he let out the most heartrending wheeze. His face drew into a mask of disgust and studial. He paled and looked terribly weak that moment, his limp body still being pounded and rhythmically budged up and down on the crinkling sheets. Yet then the flush poured crimson back into his cheeks, angry this time and no more flowering from pleasure.

Thor gulped suddenly, an evil foreboding sending chills down his spine. Whatever madness had ridden him there, it was just now jumping off his oaf head with a devils grin, leaving poor, stupid Thor to his ice cold sobering. But he couldn't bring his pace to a stop, try as he may. He felt ridiculous. What if he _came_ now?

And then he got slapped. Hard. On both his cheeks on end, both Lokis hands flying up to his face. Thor got slapped at least three times on each side. And then the trampling began and the yelling and the hitting. Thor didn't know in his sludge of a brain what had _exactly_ went so wrong when he already tried to get hold of his brothers wild limbs and pin them down to soothe it all, helpless and clueless as he was – because what HAPPENED suddenly? Why was Loki SO horrified? Alright, the thought of that jotun thing was not a pleasant one and Thor had _kind_ of been a brute - but Loki DID overreact now! He couldn't be all too demolished either as he'd been nearly as loose as a wench when Thor'd gotten seriously rough. And anyway, facing this jealous claim of ownership could at least have been _somehow_ stimulating … ?

“Get OUT”, Loki sobbed, tears of rage in the corners of his eyes, “get OUT of me!” He squirmed to slide off Thors lance and tried his everything to break free. A dying butterfly on the needle wouldn't have done any better.

Needless to say Thor felt AT ONCE like a rapist again. And to his own dismay he felt another outpour squirting from of his size as Lokis floundering had it bent to the right so hard it just _had_ to spill.

Thor let go in a haste and rolled himself over, the sudden pullout into the cold cutting his flesh like razors. He bucked his hips in the aftershocks of their just cut off ride. His prick spat even more although it wasn't _nearly_ released, bewailing the lost clench around its form with tears that could have been no more unfitting now.

Loki jumped out of bed, gasping hysterically, and took some distance before wringing his hands and pacing the spot that he'd reached. Thor hang there frozen in a half sitting, half lying position and didn't dare to move. Though, he did move. He shook with panting.

Loki stood still like ice then. So promptly as to make Thor flinch. He turned around in one angry, smooth twirl, ranting: “GODS! Are you – MAD or what? Why would you SAY that, what is WRONG with you?!”

There he stood, quaking in his skin. And he'd actually lost his erection over this! Nine, he'd been close. _Too_ close one would have thought. Thor tried to gulp as he saw drops of his own galore precum running down the inner side of his brothers quivering thighs. The nipple that he'd ravished glowed a widespread, dark, sore pink. But Loki didn't seem to even care much for his body now. It was what had been _said_.

He ranted on.

“A JOTUN? Me fucked by a – Hel, what IS wrong with you, REALLY?! We … lie together and, and all you think of is picturing me IMPALED by a BLUE SKINNED MONSTROSITY? A – _Laufey_ ...”, he sobbed, something like remembrance crossing his face, “ … LAUFEYSON!!!”

Then he stretched his hands as far off himself as he could, formed them to claws and grit his teeth at their sight. A tremor ran through his whole face as if he was fighting some weird emotion down. And then he groaned and slapped himself, right and left, and stormed towards the door.

Thor, terrified by the performance, bolted after his brother and held him back before he could make it to the other room. His fist clenched tighter around Lokis elbow than would probably have been necessary. But it somehow felt _dearly_ needful. Somehow.

“Loki, I'm sorry, I am, just - ! MOTHER said … ”

“What, MOTHER?”

Thor whined. Then he gulped, slumped into himself, brought his free hand up to his face and bit his thumb. He'd messed up gloriously.

Like this they stood all naked. Thors red, hard cock was a _joke_ that instant. He felt like his heart had skittered down and pressed the pumping ball that it was into his shaft. He could have exploded by a mere whiff of air and spilled all up Lokis stomach. But shock and compunction had Thors mind separated from his body. Kind of.

“Mother was here”, he tried, “when you were sleeping. And she told me she thinks you've been raped by a crowd of Jotnar. Because of the wounds the healers found on you. I'm sorry, love, it crossed my mind suddenly and – I didn't _like_ it, if you think I wou-”

“What? WHAT does she think?”

“Loki … “

“She – thinks, my MOTHER”, Loki drew the last word out like helplessly trying to explain its meaning to himself, “thinks I've been fucked by a Frost Giant. No, a whole BUNCH of them! How does she THINK that, HOW?”

“She is convinced you've been in Jotunheim.”

“I said I was in VANAHEIM! You FOUND me there!”

And this was when Thors eyes frowned to subtle slits, peering from a suddenly waking suspicion in the back of his mind. He knew well enough that the wounds had been _his_ marks, but ...

Had Loki been in Vanaheim? _All_ along, really?

“Loki, YOU said this, didn't you? Somewhere _cold_ , _strange_ and _distant_? You put that into her head! And that has me thinking now, where HAVE you been hiding? All the time I mean, not only that last day.”

The next expression crawling into Lokis face was weird and unfamiliar to Thor. He didn't know what to make of it. And then he got slapped again. He let go of the elbow he'd had in his grasp.

“I've been in Vanaheim. And if I hadn't been it would be none of your beeswax!”

So. Thor didn't like this. Not at all. NOT a bit. He'd thought they'd come to trust each other. But Loki had a secret there, it nearly oozed from his pores. And he didn't even care to skillfully lie its existence away. He just kept it to himself like a brat!

“Liar”, Thor groaned, “why are you doing this? I know when you lie, brother!”

Loki, however, just broke into an outburst of guffaws. Very angry, very scary guffaws. Leaving even the usually so quickly tempered thunder prince daunted, HIM who was known to intimidate others all the time!

Thor only stood helplessly rubbing his cheeks then (because they _burned_ ) as Loki darted back towards their bed to snap for his clothes on the ground, grumbling and snarling like a furious fox as he did: He was _raving_. Thor hadn't ever seen him like that before.

“ _Laufeyson_ ”, Loki sneered with gritted teeth and noisily clicked his tongue as he had his trousers buckled. He looked at the green tunic in his fist, made a face and threw it away in a fashion that would've been due to any diva of the Realms. Then he glimpsed Thors towering manhood and _froze_ it with his eyes. Thor gulped and felt it throb. One heartbeat long he feared Loki to actually come over and slap his cock, too, with that five tail lash that he called a hand.

Worst was that Thor was sure he would have even _come_ by it.

But fortunately Loki didn't. Instead he stormed out into his main chamber (successfully this time), leaving Thor crane his neck after him and call through the open doorway: “Now … what are you _doing_?” He couldn't see Loki from this spot as he'd directly stomped around the corner.

“Getting dressed, what else? You don't expect me to let you finish on my charge? Well, if so: fuck you, brute!”

“I didn't mean THAT – oh! NORNS, I”, Thor hid his face and sighed. But he knew better than to follow his brother.

“Me and a _frost giant_ ”, Loki swore to himself and let out a sound like gagging.

But now this was getting ridiculous. Thor scowled in his place and grunted as he felt his mood tumble even lower than it already hang. Loki was putting up a show, he'd never even been particularly interested in the jotun race, let alone disgusted like this!

“Will you STOP that now, why are you freaking out for this? It's not like I put a hairy spider on your belly, drama queen!”

“BEESWAX!”

“What … ?”

“NONE of your BEESWAX!”

“So - this is how we'll handle things? We don't tell each other anything? Your secrets are upsetting me, love, I do not have such towards you!”

“And I never signed to honesty when I first spread my legs for you.”

Thor flinched, a mean, cold sting biting behind his ribs. Sometimes Lokis words were cruel indeed.

He heard a harsh laughter then, the shrieking of a drawer and the rustling of cloth.

“Laufeyson … so? What blue could EVER scare me?”

 

 

*

*

*

 

 

“Yet still, my son … I wonder”, Odin ponders patiently, his spoon ghosting across the fragile surface of a caramelized cream dessert, “how you could lose the knowledge of your whereabouts entirely now. Even if broken, your memory was not as dull when you knelt before the throne as it seems to be now … ?”

Lokis brows twitch into a sort of an uncomfortable frown as he halts in his movement, spine stiffening only so much as to barely betray his peaceful attitude. He lets the mere hint of a sigh roll through his throat, but he doesn't open his mouth for the sound to escape. Thor gulps. Seems like Loki actually thought to have lulled father into dropping the matter for today. Yet evidently he didn't. Odins gently rigid interest is as awake as it was earlier.

The Allfather used the term _seem_ on shameless purpose, goes without saying, unmasking Loki with it as a liar in the most subsidiary and fatherly way he could probably think of. He knows there's something his son won't tell. And he shall have named son know that he knows.

This time Loki and his sleek words won't get away too easily.

Thor doesn't know, by the way, that father secretly suspects Loki of possibly having teamed up with the Jotnar against Asgard. And how _could_ Thor know, really, that Odin fears a threatening war with the frozen realm brought into his golden halls by the concealing spells and fogs his younger son is able to weave? There's just no thing imaginable in the worlds that Thor could think of driving Loki to such absurd acts of treason: It's not like his little brother was some frost giant changeling in disguise! No, no, Thor would never have guessed that this was one of the greater reasons Odin decided to seal away Lokis magics and to stay on the throne himself with postponing his firstborns coronation.

There is no chance anyway that _anyone_ might have seen on the old, old face that this very moment Odin desperately hopes to be wrong with his suspicion.

_Laufeyson._

No, Thors own thoughts revolve around completely different things. He still sulks hard from their argument earlier. Lokis wayward secrecy. And their pleasure lost. He had to finish in such an undignified hurry after they canceled their lovemaking because he totally didn't want Loki running around Asgard on his own angry like _that_. And his brother wasn't all too eager to wait for him, so.

That's particularly everything bothering Thor right now.

But he does sense the tension rising between the four of them as they get their dessert served; the feast is nearing its end now. And nothing has been cleared up, not a thing. Thor knows at least that Odin's bound to tell Asgard _something_ about the mysterious absence and return of the younger prince, and the sooner he does the better. Not to mention how _much_ it would be safer if the brothers had some alternate story to secrete how they messed up on the mountain (and in which manner).

Yet Loki won't come up with anything. His silly brood-it-out patience is worth punishing. Actually.

Thor tries to seesaw glance unobtrusively between Loki and father and the plate set down in front of himself filled with sweets of all varieties (which he cannot really touch, he ate too much meat to get any sweet bites down now), but the way that mother smiles at him tells the throne heir he's pretty much failing at being subtle. So he clears his throat and shifts in his chair as the silence grows longer. And thicker.

“So?” Odin gently breaks through the thin crust of caramel on his cream and smells the vanilla scent damping out of the crack with a pleased sound. Then he speaks on: “What do you think? Is there a chance you might _regain_ your memory … ?”

“I fear not”, Loki mumbles under his breath. He shoots Thors shoulder a glance as if to try and find hold somewhere on him without having to face his eyes, no matter how drawn he feels to his brother/lover/oaf/OAF/whatsoever in his insecurity (and Loki _does_ feel insecure talking about this matter again, it shows so much Thor's torn between sulking on and plainly pitying him with the overwhelming urge to hug it all away).

But mh-mh. Loki won't look into Thors eyes for help. Even if he itches to all too visibly. It's such a shame. Thor chews on an unhappy groan and shifts in his chair again. It cannot be helped, Loki is stubborn.

_Why didn't you just confide in me? You wouldn't have to shy from my eyes now if you had._

However, it's not long until Odin sighs: “And I fear I don't believe you.”

Ouch. That was straightforward. Thor doesn't know who of them cringed most at this; he himself, Loki or even mother. Lokis jaw tenses. Odin takes a spoon of sweet pudding for the pause of it, bringing his previous words into effect. Then he sighs again.

“You know where you've been, my son. You _told_ us. Cold, strange, distant. Remember? Jotunheim.”

And this is when Lokis solemnly calm bearings finally waver: “Ohhh … _please_ ”, he squirms demonstratively and makes a face annoyed to no end, “father, with all my respect, you're making things up here. Thor told me about these abstruse ideas - “

“Abstruse you say?”

Loki purses his lips but hushes down the instant that he's interrupted. He only glimpses up at Odins eye and lets his gaze directly fall somewhere else again.

“They are by no means abstruse to _me_ , son. Given your own statement, your bewilderment as you returned, your wounds, the nature of them and their _extent_ ...”

Nine, Odin always had that thing for tunneling the full impact of his speaking into harsh sounds like X and T. What makes that last word even _worse_ , aside from its nasty meaning. Thor shrinks.

“ … which could of all races only have been gashed by the jotun males like that … “

 _Or someone at least quasi as well equipped._ It's not a comfort now, however, to be mistaken with that very species whose male genitalia _extent_ Thor appeared to envy with jealous madness earlier today.

“ … and only by a crowd of them in such a cruel and brutal way.”

 _Or selfish me alone._ Being reminded of his misdoings in the aspect of how very dumbass he just behaved again Thor seriously wants to fade into air.

“Loki. There is a very clear picture putting itself together in front of me. What else am I to make up from this? Pray tell me if you know, please. The truth this time. But as I already mean to know it I doubt you will be able to surprise me. Do not fear my penalty. I will not blame you for having stepped into a forbidden realm. Not this time. But I will not allow you keeping to yourself how this … tragedy came to be.”

And shamefaced as he sits Thor would NEVER, never have guessed that Odin actually pushes to see if the incident, bloody as it was, is considered a tragedy by Loki _at all_ … or rather the ritualized jotun version of a fraternity pledging. Thor doesn't guess _that_ , of course he doesn't. But somehow he knows that his brothers response, however it might fall, will be important now.

If Loki gave in to what their parents want him to confess … because he won't confess the _real_ truth, of course ... would that be reason enough for war with King Laufey? Could their try to keep an outlawed love affair secret be the end of Asgards peace? Because a prince raped by a horde of frost giant roughes, that _cannot_ happen without duly vengeance.

Suddenly Thor finds himself praying. He shoots his brother a desperate glance.

_Oh please, love, please. Use your tongue wise now._

Alas, Loki still will not meet his eyes. He cannot see the plea dripping from them. Thor sits stiff like a broomstick.

Loki takes a deep breath, rubs the merged squad of his left hand fingertips from the root of his nose across his right brow and down his jawline dramatically. He shuts his eyes.

“Father. Thank you earnestly for your deep concern. But – _oh_ , I'm trying not to be sarcastic now”, he chuckles out at once, a roguish grin creeping up his cheeks, “sorry. Ehrm. That does all sound terribly evil. But didn't you forget something important?”

Odin narrows his eye, waiting.

“Where was the frostbite on me after that snowman orgy?”

Moments pass. No one breathes. Father actually frowns - uncertain.

And then the tease already sits doubling up with husky giggles, hiding his face with both his palms. Thors features drop. Well, he didn't see _that_ coming. Loki seems to find himself terribly funny.

“Snowman … orgy”, mother echoes.

“S-sss-sorry, I _couldn't_ resist”, Loki chortles.

Thor melts in his chair and moans as he bumps his head against his cushioned chairback. Loki gaggles on, biting his lip in vain against the laughter. Yet he shoots mother that sweet, apologetic glance for her worries (and Thor doesn't miss it), saying more than every heartfelt excuse could ever have said.

She smiles, gently shaking her head in disbelief. Thor can't quite tell what she thinks. But she's obviously glad her son has not yet lost his ability of laughing.

“I'm sorry”, Loki says again, but shyer now, “just trying to ease the atmosphere. Uhm. Well. What I was _trying_ to say is … the wounds you have been told were found on me: they never existed.”

“What?” Mothers eyes shine with doubting but eager relief. Yet then she frowns, upset: “But why wouldn't you SAY that, dear? We've been sitting here for a while, didn't we?”

He makes a face. “Ahm … I didn't know how to _start_ this. It's such an ugly matter, and … ahm.”

Dear Nine, that blush is real. Thor marvels at how Loki combines the truth with his totally barefaced lies.

“But Loki, the healers _told_ us that … ”, Frigga hesitantly probes.

“It could have been a misunderstanding. The one who nursed me then, his eyes are old, you know. I do not accuse him to have thought out such a rumor for evil intentions. He might have somehow misread his instruments. The healing cradles are particularly complex – I read a book about their mechanisms once … ”

 _Of course you did._ Thor cocks his brows. Not that he's doubting it.

“ … and one wrong glance suffices to make a soldier with a broken leg look pregnant.”

Mother nods absently, deep in thought. Loki dares to smirk, trying to slowly step forward on the road to make-believe. He won't get all too far, though, his fresh poise destined to be shattered.

“Stop this fooling now”, Odin interferes all unimpressed, leaving the whole hall hush for the echo of his voice.

Loki bites his lips, thrown out of confidence: “I am not … ”

“Stop it.”

“So - did you _see_ me bruised?”

Thor gulps. His hackles itch. There is the stubborn tone again. He knows it all too well. Loki would show some teeth now if pushed any further.

Odin however won't answer to such childishness and remains staring his son down like a judging monument.

“Exaaactly”, Loki tries out, hoping to manipulate his fathers silence to his advantage, “you never did. And how, _pray_ tell, would I have been able to casually walk around that day I was brought back home if I had _really_ been in such mean pains-”

No. The Allfather won't take this bait.

“They found a herbal salve on you. It is known under the common name _Cowards Brew_. You know what it accomplishes, I will not explain to you what you yourself applied.”

“I – wait – what? So now it is what _I_ have done?”

Thor shifts at Lokis uprising panic and nearly senses his brothers heart thumping like a rabbits on the sudden run. He's nearing a tight corner now. This isn't good at all.

“Loki, you have been wounded in Jotunheim. You took care of your wounds – maybe this is why you went for Vanaheims forest, to pluck the herbs you needed – and then you've been found and brought back to Asgard. The only question left to answer now is why you won't confess the obvious.”

“Because - this is not TRUE, this never happened!”

“How do you know, then? Staying in your own story of events. You claim to have no memory concerning where you've been and why. So if you didn't lie with _that_ you can't deny what you don't know.”

“I – I was _not_ in Jotunheim! And I have not been butt raped like a damsel in distress, dammit!”

 _Li-ar._ Thor blows his nostrils from the weird sensation of the possibly most awkward insider joke.

“Oh”, mother sighs and facepalms, “ _language_ , Loki.”

“Sorry, but - !”

Odins open hand shoots into sight, demanding silence. And receiving it, of course.

“Thank you. You had such violent intercourse on mutual agreement then”, Odin assumes, “with a jotun male. Or more than one.”

Thor gulps, fighting the brusque flashback of jealousy back down where it comes attacking him from.

“WHAT? I was NOT in-”

“Hush! You were. This is OUT of question, Loki! You keep forgetting whom you're talking to.”

“And YOU keep forgetting the frostbite!”

“Your magics, my dear son, have sheltered you from it.”

“Really?” Now Loki snorts with disapproval, his next words oozing scorn. “Well, I do admit your confidence in my skills flatters me highly, father, but I am by FAR not able to do such a thing.”

Isn't it strange, though, how Frigga claws her fingers nervously into each other? Thor glimpses from the corner of his eyes that she out of a sudden wears a face he hasn't ever seen on her.

“You _are_ ”, Odin then contradicts softly. _Woefully_ one could almost have said. Isn't that odd? “You are, Loki. I only wonder if you really do not know or if you don't want me to know that you _found out._ ”

“Sh-shhh! Please, don't, this is enough”, Frigga interrupts all fussed. Odin gently strokes her hand that snapped onto his upper arm and sighs.

Loki, after staring open mouthed and appalled for some time, shakes his head like drunken, taken completely aback it seems, and appears to slip into whatever shade of nightmare clouding his dazed eyes. The pearls of sweat forming on his pale temples have Thor terrified: So it is him, his throat clamping with a fright he cannot even explain to himself, who chokes the unspoken question into the silence.

“Found out _what_?”

Somehow everything seems to glide off into distance, leaving Thor alone and small. Mother stares like from miles at him. Odin waits, age and patience his bones and his flesh, as his younger son fights some covert fight with himself. And no one says a word. It's like there's a secret everybody knows of, everyone but Thor.

Again. “WHAT?”

No further reaction to his hoarse demand.

Meanwhile Loki groans, somehow gathering a strong willed expression on his face again, hungry for victory this time, as he speaks up once more: “No … no. No. NO! Father, you LISTEN to me: These oh so abusive marks have never been there and you have NEVER seen them by yourself. You accept my word now!”

“So what do you insist on? The healers lied?”

“I already explained that this could easily have been a mistake, but if you want to put it that way – yes I do!“

“Don't be so childish.”

“HOW am I CHILDISH?”

“You did NOT for NOTHING fall into unconsciousness, Loki, NOT for two whole days!”

Loki slams his hands onto the table as he jumps from his chair. Thor winces as much as does mother. This is getting louder and angrier now.

“I NEVER claimed to not have been exhausted, but I have NOT BEEN RAPED BY ANYONE!”

Odin leaves his youngest breathe heavily from his rant until he looks like nothing but an outdaring, stupid boy. Lokis hands claw into fists as he grimaces in this humiliation.

Thor cannot bear it, he can't _bear_ seeing his brother suffer like this. His body is tense and graunching with the sudden wish for Mjolnir in his grip, he wants to smash the table, wipe all enemies away, crush the next best wall and haul Loki into a mighty fly of escape with him. But he can't. He CAN'T. This is father in the end he is experiencing as a threat this very moment, FATHER.

“So it _is_ true … you let yourself be had. They didn't have to take you by force. Is it, Loki?”

Thor grits his teeth as a tiny snake of a neon yellow flash sizzles from his knuckles.

“WHAT? NO, why”, Lokis eyes are wet with rising tears by now, “why do you THINK I would do that? And anyhow, how do you always, ALWAYS believe everyone else but never me? What is this clinging to my person that you think me this BONE DEEP false?”

“Spouse”, Frigga pleas. She gets ignored.

“That shade of blue you're wearing … you're wearing it rather _proudly_.”

Loki gasps simultaneously with Thor whining out and beating his forehead against the table.

_Oh Nine, not THAT._

“I wore blue before”, Loki rebuffs out of breath.

Odin just cocks his brows. “It is none of my royal house, this color.”

“I DID wear this blue before! And you would NEVER call me a jotun whore for it!”

Mother is up on both legs at the first tear falling from Lokis lashes, but she doesn't get far. Not Odin but Loki himself dares her to sit down and leave it be: “DON'T! Mother. Leave me, please. Don't.”

“Then why _can't_ you just finally tell the truth, son? End this farce immediately”, she bemoans.

“That I have done, and more that once!”

Odin shakes his head, starting again: “You d-”

“Father, no, STOP THIS MADNESS!!!”

That was Thor. And his fist catapulting his dish with its sweets through the hall. And an explosion of a thunderclap bursting above the roof.

When did it start to rain at all?

Silence follows the boom that Thors voice bore. He sits shaking with tension and panting for air. He'd bet his face is red, hot as it burns. As no one speaks he decides it's _his_ right to do so.

“What IS this anyway? This is a FAMILY MATTER, but you don't TREAT it like a family matter, you DENOUNCE AND ABASE my brother in public!”

“We are not in public, Thor. Lower your voice, there is no need to be so raging”, Odin says.

“There are FIFTY guards in this room! Tell me how this is PRIVATE!”

“ _Thor_ ”, Loki snarls, making the helpless Thunderer wince from the scolding tone of it, “I can speak for myself. Leave it be.”

“But – BROTHER!” Thors eyeballs prickle painfully like loaded with that exact same electricity already flooding his whole form at being dumbfounded like this. He wants to HELP and … ?

“Leave. It. Be.”

Odin sighs. Frigga just shakes her head at it all. Thor sobs offended. And Loki decides to try and stare father down at last.

“I said what was to be said. That's all you get.”

“So am I left to assume your being gone, without the wounds for all I care, has been initiated by a spell connected to that golden stag in Vanaheim after all? And do you expect me to shrug the matter away, if the matter _was_ this way? Because there MUST have been a cause for all of this! You did not disappear by choice, so much have eyewitnesses it who saw you toil in the library. You force me to impose my warriors to kill the creature as you - “

“WHAT?”

“AS YOU ... leave it the only possible danger in this story. I might have thought you have been led by its magics to escape Jotunheim through the folds of the realms – but as you deny any other obvious mishaps in this I am left to suppose that either the stag pulled you from Asgard by evil force or you entangled yourself in its grasp! You could have died in the tug of that creatures aura! “

“This is ridiculous!”

“ _You_ , Loki, leave me no choice but to act on what _you_ claim has happened. I am King of Asgard. I WILL act. There'll be a healer executed for false testimony and a solemn spirit to be slaughtered. And mind that _you_ will be responsible for it. Is this what you prefer over honesty? Think twice, my son, before you answer.”

Lokis face is contorted. Thor doesn't breathe. This is too much.

“You don't _really_ expect me to believe that BULLSHIT of a lie blown up in front of what you really want from me: to just admit that you are right, no matter if you really are or not. That's insulting my intelligence, father, you have no clue how much!”

“You are, my son, only insulting yourself.”

“And you bluff. You know what a risk you'd take in killing the stag. You don't know if it is of a holy status there. Such an action could mean WAR with Vanaheim. You _can't_ do this.”

“I'll have to.”

“You won't. You – CAN'T! The stag is innocent, free of misdo! The healer, killing him for a mishap is bad enough, yet you can't mean to slay a being of pure nature while you don't even really SUSPECT it a threat yourself! I don't know what it was tearing me out of home but I know it was NOT the stag!”

“Loki, don't you see? YOU decide whether I do in the end, you alone. I grant you time to think until next dawn; if you have not laid open the truth about this matter to me then and stay with your stubborn denial I WILL condemn the responsible healer to death and decree that the severed head of named golden stag is to be brought to me. Not before this is done shall you ever get your magics back nor Thor his right of the throne.”

“What? What's that to do with THOR?”

“He will be hunting the stag for Asgard, proving himself worthy his kingdom with a first serious threat dead by his hands.”

Thunders growl into uproar again.

“WHAT?!”

“Thor, _please_ ”, mother says.

Odin continues as if his elder was but air to him: “And now begone, child, there is no sense in arguing with you like this. I do not wish to see you before you found reason enough to act the age you are.”

“You _bluff_ ”, Loki spits and turns on his heels the moment a new tide of tears wants to belie his show of superiority, more fleeing that striding towards the main portal of the dining hall.

Thor jumps to his feet by pure instinct and all limbs _ache_ him so, but father keeps him back with a sign of his hand: “Not you. Sit, Thor. He'll be just fine.”

“But -”

“He'll be fine.” Odin shoots Lokis bracelet a tired glance. But that's not _enough_ for Thor, no way, his brothers magics locked is not a warrant for his safety: The image of a knife at Lokis throat returns to Thors vision. He darts up against his fathers order and doesn't even hear the groan behind his back.

“What is your name, Loki?” Odin then calls after his son.

_What? Why?_

This is such a nightmare, they'd all wake up soon, they'd have to. Thor cannot grasp this anymore. Why would Odin ask Loki _this_? Why now?

Loki doesn't look back as he yells: “LAUFEYSON!”

It's a desperate and hurt remark, basically no more but a sons outcry at having lost a grave, unfair fight with his father. Yet Thor could not have shivered more from any other sound. It's leaving a vibration in his bones he won't get rid off all too soon.

 

 

*

*

*

 

 

“Brother, just let me _breathe_ ”, Loki sighed, trotting down a wide, marble stairway leading down to roofless grounds with a Thor all too concerned at his heels, “I _won't_ lock myself up again, not that soon at least. I need air and motion now.”

“But the gardens?” Thor frowned. There definitely were more _discreet_ ways to reach their parents halls.

Loki had stormed out into public all too suddenly, Thor hadn't even halfway managed to put on his boots as he'd already stepped onto the open corridors in pursuit of his brother; to only _think_ about how their naked bodies had been close as can be mere heartbeats ago had made Thors oversensitive skin cringe under his clothes put on in a perfect hurry. Loki must have totally been _smelling_ of it.

And anyway, people thought him still in coma. They would have needed an official statement concerning his actual health and conditions to feel secure in their kingdom, sudden things were always rousing volks to unnecessarily fuss about. And Loki just wanted to POOF! show up under all Asgards eyes like nothing had ever happened. There would be lords and high maidens and guards and servants and groundsmen and, well, _people_ in the gardens. There'd already been enough of them in the nearly deserted hallways.

“Loki, the people will-”

“Let them.”

Thor grunted. “You don't even KNOW what I wanted to tell you people will - “

“Stare?”

“Uhm …”

“So yes, let people stare. I am a prince, am I not? Don't you treat me like a prisoner!”

“I – sorry. I didn't mean to. I just-”

“Well, just don't. I'm not in the mood.”

Setting his first step onto a crunching pebble path Thor halted, not sure what Loki meant: “Not in _what_ mood?”

“The Thor mood.”

“Oh.” Blushing the throne heir pouted to the ground, his walk losing a lot of energy at once. Alas, he _did_ somehow deserve that now.

They strolled purposefully on, Thor always following, and Loki actually had the gall to nod clement greetings towards every staggered glance and call thrown at him. He did look weak, pale as he was, but good enough to seem recovering.

Thor didn't like the blue on him, though. It felt so … foreign, and only made him cold in a way too contrasting manner, considered one the wrath that had burned in him only moments ago.

Some of the trees and bushes were in gorgeous bloom along their course. And somehow, in a very, very awkward way, Thor found himself upset that Loki didn't at least once pause for a moment to awe or even sniff their flowers. If he had chosen this route why not enjoy a bit of it? Thor would have loved seeing him love the nature that surrounded them. Like Sif had witnessed him do in Vanaheims wood in Thors unfortunate stead. Yet Loki wouldn't. His pace was severe.

Thor couldn't stand the silence all too long, of course, no matter if his brother was in the _Thor mood_ or not. The urge to reconnect, even if only with words, was overwhelming him. He picked his nails, staring from under his lashes at a silken, raven haired back of a head as he muttered: “Mmmmmh ... so. Why did you put this on? This blue I mean?”

“To make a point”, Loki said, nose high in the air.

“What point ... that I'm an idiot? I knew that before.”

“Tsk! Don't think yourself more important than you are, this is for mother.” Loki but whispered after that, nodding more passersby away: “If I would have been traumatized by a blue whopper rapist I wouldn't be able to wear this color without freaking out. She'll get the hint, she's a woman.”

Thor bit his lip at the uncomfortable matter brought up again.

“Yes”, he said, unconvinced, though, and still taking the tunic personal, “but why is this so important to you anyway? Isn't it, uhm ... better to have an explanation for the bruises?”

Lokis answer was a hiss.

“I will _not_ be associated with the jotun vermin. Imagine this story getting public! I'll be called names like Frostwench and Jotun Joggler for eternities!”

“Oh ... alright ... I guess. But then again that _tunic_ … ?”

“It's a color, Thor, to these witless people it's nothing but a color. As long as our good old parents don't confirm that _ridiculous_ madness they've somehow managed to come up with, really, _Heimdall_ knows how.”

“Now stop it already, don't slander about moms and pops”, Thor grumbled, “they're worried and that's all.”

Loki sighed: “I know.” But the edges of his indeed silver dagger of a tongue seemed to at least have somehow softened.

He whirled around then with a gasp, however, and startled Thor with the alarmed impression in his eyes.

“I didn't lock the door – you left after me, did you lock the door?”

“Uh, what? No, I guess ...”

“The _bed chamber_ , the parlourmaids have keys to the front door but not the other rooms, yet if they are not locked - I keep them locked - I cannot have a parlourmaid find the remainders of your _you know what I mean_ spread all over my sheets!”

Thor blinked at this sudden outburst of worry, yet then he smiled and grabbed his brother by the shoulders, just glad to see him more _himself_ again.

“Calm down, she'll think it's yours.”

“That's not making it _better_ , Thor!”

“I see”, he chuckled.

“Could you go back for me, please? You know that you're faster than me.”

Thor hesitated. He'd gotten used to be at Lokis side like a life guard by now. And he had not yet returned to the point at which to be comfortable with letting his brother (who could die any time, who knew) alone like that.

This hesitation sufficed for Loki to roll his eyes and storm right back to where they came from on his own. Thor let him and watched him run some paces before slowly strolling along.

Loki had reached a distance of possibly fifteen steps when suddenly around the neatly trimmed corner of a hibiscus wall someone crossed his way and startled him to stand. Brows rising up his forehead Thor was surprised to see Sif (in a fawn colored dress as she wore them since she'd been stripped of her right to be a warrior). He meant to slowly catch up on the two of them, yet somehow he was not particularly eager for her company; to say they were at common peace would have been lied indeed. Loki _alone_ was stressful enough. But both his divas in the same spot ... _oh well_.

Once Thor was in earshot he halted, though, unsure what to do then; there was a sudden tension sizzling between Loki and Sif. Loki cocked his brows and hoisted his nose skywards like a raven its beak and Sif stared up at him from the eyes of a snarling wolf bitch.

„How do you know?“ She hissed without further ado.

„Excuse me?“

„How DARE you play stupid! 'Greet the ginger guard from me'? You've been nowhere to have witnessed this, or at least it _seemed_ so. I smell some beastly trick of yours, Loki. Admit it: You've been in Asgard all along, somehow hidden from our eyes, and then you followed us into Vanaheim to act like you've been caught by that _exact_ creature I brought you in contact with – and that's how easily the coronation of your brother's canceled, officially on my account! You did this to stop Thor from becoming king and to blame it on me!“

Thor grimaced at once, teeth shown, eyes wide, and froze in place. Oh, _that_ was ugly, what bollocks did Sif even talk about? And didn't she see him standing and listening right behind her? She halfway turned her back on him that instant and indeed didn't seem to have at least glimpsed over her shoulder.

„Oh, Lady Sif”, Loki purred, also not sparing Thor the slightest glance, “I am totally honored that you think me so sly but this time it's much easier I'm afraid.“

„Now _then_ I'm curios!“

„Fandral saw you. And I don't really need to say he told me and probably everyone else?“

„So? And he told you and probably everyone else – but not _Thor_? I thought you a better liar.“

She spat to the ground.

„What?“ Lokis head tilted with a frown.

„When you were back I sought talks with Thor to apologize, because _yes,_ I DO know Fandral, and I thought if you, who had not even been _here_ , knew of my cheating it must of course have been Fan who chirped again, but Thor heard of the matter for the very first time then and for the worst out of MY mouth as if I was talking about the weather! He disregards me like never before now and I just KNOW it's your plan to break us apart so we won't rule Asgard any time soon. Denial is of no use, I see through you, snake!“

Loki blinked three times, languidly patting Sifs face up and down with boredom lidded eyes. Yet then he sighed and shook his head: “Got me. Alright. You're right, Sif.”

He didn't MEAN that, did he? Thor found himself break into slight cold sweat there. Loki was up to prank on her, wasn't he? Because what she'd suggested, if that WAS true – no. No _way_.

Sifs spine straightened in a menacing shift.

“As I can't kill my brother to come into inheritance of the throne – he's nearly indestructible as you will know, even to poisons, but the main problem here is mostly Mjolnir and my fragile skull - my greatest goal is to have Thor all to myself so I shall rule over Asgard at least from the back of his mind. The reason why he neglects you late off is that we are recently having lots of sex to fasten our bonds. He's nearly a _slave_ to me since I bewitched him with my vicious spells. Now I only need to get you out of the way and set the crown on Thors then _finally_ bachelor head for my masterplan to bear fruits.”

And this was when Thor got the notion of how a heart attack must have felt. He whined under his breath and palmed his face.

_Lots of sex? Really? Oh, Loki. Loki, why?_

Named Loki started to literally laugh out loud as Sif muffled an angry roar behind her gritted teeth. Then he bit through his own guffaws with a full toothed sneer so abruptly as to make her and Thor wince from it all the same.

“Don't be _ridiculous_ ”, he sneered, “you don't take me for real, do you? I'd never – we are _brothers_ , Sif, brothers don't have sex”, and then his nasty stare darted up and bore itself into Thors like a vengeance taken really, really retrospectively, “am I right, Thor?”

 _Ouch._ He hadn't realized until now with HOW much future ammunition he'd actually provided Loki over the time. So much for forgiveness.

Sif flung around and gasped as she finally saw who stood not all too far behind her. Thor couldn't do much more but shrug his shoulders with an awkward face.

“You're the plague!” She yelled at the rascal grinning shamelessly in her ignomy.

“Mind you”, Loki mocked.

And then she was off. Thor groaned. At least there hadn't been _too_ many people witnessing the infamous scene. His feet felt heavier as he waded into the last steps of remaining distance.

“Uuuuh …”, Loki intonated with a pout as Thor had reached his side, “how bad of you poor cuckold, _disregarding_ her.”

Thor would nearly have sworn to sense a viciously pleased jealousy and bitter competition in his brothers words. And a teensy accusation. For wasn't this triangle of theirs quite a weird one? Had not Thor cheated on Sif with Loki long before she'd returned the favor with the ginger guard?

The whole thing was simply distasteful. Loki was obviously not amused to be struck in the middle of it.

“I'm not even angry for the cheat”, Thor grumbled, trying to _somehow_ sound reasonable and defend himself, “as I don't have the right to anyway. I just, well”, _wanted to spend my time with you instead. And now love me for it and stop being nasty._

Loki wouldn't listen, however, still not in the Thor mood it seemed, and only clicked his tongue. “She hates me”, he spat with a bitter grin, “which I would understand if she knew what we do, but she doesn't. She just hates me.”

_And who except for me WOULDN'T hate you like this?_

Thor huffed, heaved his body weight from one foot to the other and didn't know what to say next. He only scowled then, angry and affronted, eyeballs nearly hurting from it.

It was when Loki started off into their initial direction taken and away from his chambers again that the Thunderer craned his neck and trolled up to his brothers side.

“So, now – what about your door?”

Loki sighed and rubbed his lids: “Doesn't matter.”

“What?”

“I doesn't matter I say.”

“Why's that? Changed your mind?”

“Sif just reminded me of the fact that it is of no use. People will always think the worst of me. It doesn't matter what I do.” Lokis words suddenly wavered like from tears held back. Thor felt the pain of them instantly stitch through his grumpiness, leaving his chest too tight at once.

“Ahw … but”, his feet fell into a stand, “that is not true, lo - ”, _ve. Oh!_ He cleared his throat, reminding himself of being in public and watching his tongue. Good thing his brothers name started the same way as did the word of endearment he'd chosen to pet him with.

“Come along now, will you? I must _really_ see mother and father”, Loki said, his voice soft but the slightest of moments. He would have been liverish again that day soon enough, goes without saying (actually not even five steps from here), but for now he plucked his brothers sleeve like an anxious child about to fail a test.

 

 

*

*

*

 

 

Thor finds him in his chambers without light, curled up on the bare floor in that exact spot where his bed stood before they got it into the other room. The sight of it makes the throne heirs heart, pounding everywhere and nowhere at the same, ache some terribly more than it already does.

Loki was so quickly back here after leaving father, Thor could barely keep pace with him. Alright, he _could_ have if unease had not held him back. But he always stayed at least three steps behind. And then the hindrance of half an arms length sufficed for Thor to be barred out. Loki locked the door and Thor had no key. So he had to run for the parlourmaid holding a copy and had quite a hard time finding her _at all_ as these kinds of servants are basically trained to be invisible and he, as a prince, had not the tiniest clue where to look.

Meanwhile the sun had set when he finally returned.

He locks the door himself now. The torchlights from the corridor die out the instant the portal snaps shut, leaving only dusty nightfall shimmers ghosting on the forms inside. On Lokis forms.

Thor steps closer and kneels down next to the naked back presented to him. The jotun blue tunic lies ripped into shreds in a corner (or at least it looks like that) and his brother crouches left in but his trousers and boots on the floor. As Thor palms his shoulder it's cool. Not trembling but way too cool.

“What are you doing here?” Thor merely whispers.

“My bed is gone. It's ours now, but you ruined it. I don't want to sleep in our bed. I want _my_ bed.”

Thor pinches his nose, worry for his brothers sanity stabbing his guts as much as guilt. Seems like it's been a bit too much for Loki today. But not only for him; it's moments like these that scare the brave firstborn of Odin to death. Everything is instable now, emotional, fragile. All things could snap with one wrong word.

“This is not your bed, Loki. It's the floor.”

“I _know_. Not what I had, not what I wanted.”

“I could … get it back here … ?”

“That's not the same.”

Thor frowns. “I could – I'll change the sheets for you, I … and I promise not to sleep in them. Just don't sleep on the floor. Please don't.”

Loki doesn't answer, but his shoulder wills to gently melt down under one kiss Thor decides to pillow onto it.

Then a worldshattering sob breaks loose from Lokis throat, shattering Thors whole world indeed: “Why's everything always ending bad for me?”

Loki shakes with tears at once, crying so hard to slip into breathing troubles. Thor, skeered by it, picks him up into his arms and tries to kiss as much of it away as he can. Loki dangles from his hug, however, a whitish blur in the dark, and will not cling to his brothers supporting frame. He just keeps weeping bitterly against whatever his face ends up being pressed into; a mouth, a cheek, a neck, a chest. Thor has his troubles holding him upright, his mighty arms suddenly numb. Again and over again Thor finds himself pulling his brothers body up as it slips from his grasp like a sodden, dragging thing destined to go under in a sea, heavier with each tear wept soaking it through. It's just as if he wrested to save a long drowned friend.

And it is just so _black_ around them. If only there was light, this moment wouldn't feel like the pull of a bad dream.

“Don't cry, it'll be alright, love. I'm sorry”, Thor pleas, tasting salt and skin and cold hair on his tongue. The longer his brother hangs limp in his arms the more Thor feels powerless in this mess. His temples thump with chills. And the tears dripping from his chin, at some point he doesn't know whose they are. Loki yelps and coughs with sobs.

This day was a disaster in many ways. Thor insulted Loki in the most intimate way and opened up a gap of mistrust between them, only subtle but undeniably there. Loki in turn fought the fight of his life with father and everyone else it seemed – in vain. And even if there won't be war with Jotunheim because of him, an innocent man is about to die. And the stag, that golden stag ...

Thor doesn't understand in what way that creature is anyhow important to his brother, but it seems _essential_ to him that it lives. As if he saw himself mirrored in it, the scapegoat in an unfair game of lies.

Odin dealed the cards viciously with this turn: either Loki confessed whatever truth would satisfy the Allfather or Thor killed the stag. And if he wouldn't he'd never be king, for all Asgard to know. This is a play of sacrifice. One victim would be necessary to end it.

_I don't need to be king. I don't want to be king. May father sit the throne of Asgard flat until the Ragnarok is upon us, I don't care._

“I won't do it, I promise! I won't kill the stag. And the man will call upon mercy on his mistake, he _can_ survive. It's alright … ”

“No, it's not”, Loki shrieks out, nearly choking on his words, “it's not, I am a liar to you all, a jotun whore! And even you – you know it BETTER!”

“Yes, I - oh, shhh-shhhh ... breathe, love ...”

“You should know it BETTER, Thor!”

“I do, just listen, please: I do!”

“I'm _not_ a … “

“No, you're not, you're _mine_ , my Loki”, Thor coos with a pair of arms finally tightening with duly strength around that poor thing shaking at his chest, “don't cry, I love you so ...”

Loki cries just a little more. Thor feels every tremor running through his spine resounding in himself. Every sob shoots hot clouds of damp, teary breath against his neck and collarbone. The sounds that blubber out with each are like little cuts in the Thunderers heart. He can't do more but shush and kiss and hold Loki through it. And does exactly so until he feels his brother calm, at least a bit comforted in the end as it appears.

Then there's a weary grip supporting itself on Thors thigh. Loki gets up to sit on his knees, huffing deeply and swaying with his tired gasps. Thor helps him and keeps his shoulders palmed.

Once he kneels Loki sighs and wipes his face with feeble hands. Thors vision is not _that_ much better in this darkness by now, but he sees enough to touch his brothers chin with his right thumb.

“Hey”, he says, “I love you. I'm sorry and I love you. And everything will be alright.”

Loki chuckles. “I'm ridiculous.”

“You're not.”

“I … “

Thor leans in, kissing whatever his lips might meet, and ends up feeling puffy, warm, wet eyelids.

“You're not”, he breathes again, “and it's alright. That healer won't be executed, I'll see to it. And I won't kill the stag.”

“You wouldn't find it anyway”, Loki chuckles.

“Probably.”

Thor weighs his head against his brothers shoulder then, onto his own left hand, relieved and worn like after battle. He didn't know how thankful he could be for a bit wisecrack. Really, such floods of tears are nothing he was born to handle. But it appears he has his Loki back at last.

It's then that he feels a shaky kiss on his earlobe.

“I'm not the throne, Thor”, Loki whispers.

“ … hu?”

“The throne. You might have confused me for it as you mounted me earlier. Thought you'd disappoint me, hu? But you can't fail on me. I'm not the throne.”

“Oh Nine … you noticed … ?”

“I figured, oaf.”

Thor whines into Lokis neck.

“Will you do something for me?”

“Anything.”

“Sleep in our bed. With me.”

“But didn't you say … ?” Thors heart tramples his ribcage like an excited toddler.

Loki humms and Thor can literally picture him making use of his fabled eyebrows. “I lied. That's a bad habit of mine, you know.”

_So there you are. That is my tease._

“ Oh? Well, then”, it's only natural he hauls his lovely pet all jauntily over his shoulder as he stands up, spirited with energy as fresh as spring. Loki whoops in surprise and dangles down his brothers back and front faster than he can probably realize. As heavy as his weeping had him be, now he's a lightweight. Thor pecks the butt next to his face.

“Let's throw ourselves under the blanket.”

Loki groans from hanging overhead and snarls: “You'll have to make up _loads_ , though, for ruining my possibly most grandiose orgasm to date. As I had the fun of funs under you til you interrupted me. Just saying.”

“Remind me of this when you're vigorous again, you wobbly frog”, Thor grins, “for now you try not to pass out as I kiss you to sleep!”

Loki will not be bested , though: “Loads, Thor.” And for a change of routine it's the thunder prince getting slapped on his caboose, a delicate hand clawing down the tight cheek in reach.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So.
> 
> I am about to write the last chapter of this fic btw.  
>  I AM ABOUT TO WRITE THE FABLED LASTIE OMG THIS IS NOT TRUE THIS CANNOT BE IMPOSSIBLLLLLLE!
> 
> Now it's your turn: comment love, please. Feed me. I'M EMPTY.
> 
>  


	32. The best worst trick

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ~ I'm sorry ~

 

 

 

 

“You've been too cruel”, the queen repeats like for the hundredth time. Her voice is quivering from harsh dismay. Her body stands tense like a stone in contrast. She looks out onto the nightblazed roofs of her home and kingdom Asgard. That place she would always have seen in harmony. That place she cannot grasp anymore now, like she can't grasp _anything_ happening around her. “You shouldn't have said - you've been - ”

Odin sighs behind her in their grand marital bed. She hasn't followed him to rest yet, hasn't even undone her complex hair. But he didn't find much sleep himself so far with the whole situation burdened on his old back. They've talked deep into night already. An no, none of them feels like there would be much more but being on their grave watch for dawn's peak tonight.

“My Frigg, my love”, he says, “I know beyond your mother's heart you understand I had no choice. He _must_ be driven this way, otherwise he'd just slip from my hands again like that well known eel we've come to love about him so. I cannot have him get away with something this potentially dangerous. You know I'd have been soft on Loki if I had not found it unavoidable to push.”

“Unavoidable you say? We do not know enough to judge what is and what is not avoidable!”

“We _know_ enough”, Odin says, reminding Frigga more than well of what has haunted her tortured mind since the healers spoke to them. She shrinks at the mere though of it because yes, Loki _must_ have been assaulted in Jotunheim, count one and one together and there is no way around it. Yet anything more made up from this tragedy is theory not holding water – and just as much no ice. Frigga refuses to believe what her husband, Allfather or not, revealed to her as his earnest suspicions in this matter.

Only after their sons had stormed out of the dining hall earlier did he hold her back – she would have followed and tried to soothe her boys goes without saying – to come have a talk in private with him. No, it could not wait, he'd insisted.

Frigga had never been so desperately mad with that very man she loves for centuries now.

“So what do we _really_ know except that our child has been unspeakably wounded?” She chews her nails, still staring out.

“That he lied”, Odin replies. “His excuses were thin. And hints proving his words wrong are scattered everywhere you look in this affair. There must be something great he's trying to hide. Something too great for his little control.”

“He might just be ashamed! He must be terribly ashamed! And we? We are not helping him! Why can't you let him lick his wounds behind that shelter of untruth, he may just need that now to heal! The fact that he happened to get lost in Jotunheim and -,” no, she _cannot_ say it, “and that there were no frostbites on him do not even assure us that he knows who he is! And how could he? He doesn't _look_ like them! I say he is ashamed, confused and scared and nothing more!”

“I wish I could agree with you in this. But he did not seem any of that when he laughed the incident out of court as I confronted him with it. And then these blue clothes he wore. As if he was out to mock the whole kingdom. It was like a statement.”

“That might be _your_ way to see things. I will not share it.”

Odin hums, his eye closed: “Then what is yours, my love? What do you make of this?”

“Denial. He's pushing it to the back of his mind. He told us lies, yes. But he might have _believed_ them. That sleep he fell into”, she huffs as the vision of it floods her inner eye, “you saw him. You doubt that sleep could have deleted memories as such that must have tortured him? Spouse, I have seen you in your Odinsleep often enough. Loki was even further gone.”

Odin stands up, his feet unusually feeble and soft. There is that ruffle of his nightgown on the marble floor and it's nearly drowning the old man's steps out with its sound. Frigga knits her fine brows as her dear man's troubles feel suddenly all too present to her, too. She doesn't dare to turn and face them, though. Her own are too much already.

The Allfather sighs close behind her, trying to finally lay out some soothing forgiveness between them.

“Well … that is a possible option indeed. And maybe it's even something simpler, something we don't even care to come up with. But we should not be blind to this one _other_ possibility. Such sentiments could cost us all our lives.”

“How dare you even _think_ …. !” She sobs, tears welling up in her eyes.

“I love him, too, Frigga.”

“But he wouldn't do _any_ of what you fear! We're talking about _Loki_!”

The thought alone of her sweet youngest abused in such a shameful and disturbing manner is nearly too much for Frigga to bear. And now she's supposed to expect her son, her soft, mild, gentle _daughter_ , to have _allowed_ his body raped to be accepted in that land that once left him to die?

She turns away as an all too familiar hand, that hand which had always spent her strength and hold, wants to touch her elbow.

As she will not accept his caress to have comfort Odin gently moves on with his words.

“If he found out he'd feel lost, betrayed even. And he wouldn't know our view of the story.”

“Because we didn't have the chance to tell him – why did we never _tell_ him?”

Odin sighs. “Yes … why didn't we, Frigga? Weren't we both afraid of it? Hadn't we always feared his reaction to the truth?”

She bites her lip, if anything tonight then by no means able to disavow _this_.

“He could be out for revenge”, Odin breathes. “The Jotnar would give him an army for this purpose. And they would give it to him for the Casket of Ancient Winters, which he'd be able to promise. It might sound absurd. But it is possible. You know his magics could conceal their men as they crept on paths long forgotten into Asgard's core. I dare not risk such madness.”

“We have his magics _bound”_ , Frigga hisses bitterly, “you didn't have to pressurize him even further with that ultimatum.”

The Allfather's answer is lofty and cold: “Don't question my desire for the truth. I will not have a secret traitor in my house, no matter if he's free or cuffed.”

A lonely owl soars a wide circle downwards from the starry sky, lamenting in her soft, slow fall.

Frigga swallows wearily.

“You must … be assuming him to hate us.”

“If I am right with my misgivings I believe he'd be convinced to have a reason to.“

“Oh”, she whines, “we must _talk_ to him!”

“That's what I tried today. He faced me with lies.”

“But … “

Loki's face flashes up behind her lids: that sweet, young face from years ago when little Loki, just then able to bind his tiny boots on his own, had that gloomy pout on his lips for the very first time and wouldn't tell her why. That very pout which would always return, which he should nearly perfectly master to conceal over the years. Of course she'd always somehow known what troubles were pulling her son's mood under. _Loki's just not as strong as the other boys. He's not as brave and not as good at running. My little one, they're teasing you again, aren't they?_

But now? What now? She only wants to ask him! Frigga wants nothing but to ask Loki what's just so terribly wrong again. She wants to tell him that she loves him, always did, no matter what icy womb bore him out there, she – but – no, she can't. Because if she spoke she'd finally confess her lie. And what if he _doesn't_ know? Is this fragile moment really meant to be the one to reveal such a monumental breach of confidence? She can't. She _can't_.

“But we're his family”, she wails, shaken, “it's _Loki_ ...”

“Yes, it's Loki, dear. Yet who _is_ Loki now? Does he himself know that? And if he does, whose world does he belong to? I must find out, Frigga. Only then can I really help him. You see my extortion set to peak on the morrow is the only way to act on this matter.”

“I just don't see how you imagine one dead man and a slayed creature will stop him – if you're right. Because _if_ you're right he … he will not care.”

“But as you said, it _is_ Loki … is it? And if he's still the one we know as ours I'm sure we'll have this problem solved by dawn.”

This is when Frigga eventually startles into glancing at Odin, finding his lips curled in a weary smile. She gasps unhappily: “You trust him more than I.”

He picks a tear from her cheek with his thumb: “Well, after all, I do have the same hopes as you. That he's not hostile towards us. And part of me even means to _know_ he's not.”

“Why is that?”

“He called himself Laufeyson.”

She lets out a crumbly hiss at the pain of that word.

“Oh”, makes Odin, though, “no, no, you get me wrong. You know his odd ways, don't you, stealthy where our kind is proud, proud where no one else but him would be. If Loki _knew_ what he really is”, Odin smiles with a tender kiss on Friggas cheek, “don't you think she would have said _daughter_?”

 

 

*

*

*

 

 

Not long and suddenly a fervent spurt of knocks disturbs the royal bedchambers; the king and queen have sure not been asleep anyway, they've just been standing in their window spot musing outside, yet still. What would be so dramatic as to intrude them so?

Frigga breaks open into a hopeful smile, breathing: “It's him, he”, _yes, he's come to talk! He cannot wait this through! He -_

“No”, says Odin, though, not really taking this knock for his son's. Frigga freezes as he solemnly walks over to answer the door.

There terribly out of breath a grubby footboy stands, flanked by the royal guards who must have thought his message as important as to lead him here in person, panting and supporting himself only with holding to his knees. As the runner glimpses the King of Asgard he slumps down to prostrate and bump his forehead to the ground, stammering: “Highness, Father of them all, ah! Forgive me, I -”

“Who sends for me so urgently?”

“It's thems-the, ewr, the _healers_ , Father, they – the cradles have exploded! All of them! The sanatorium is still on fire and the flames will not extinguish my mere water! It's a magic fire and the mages beg for your help to deal it, please!”

_A magic fire._

Odin shoots his wife a glare of terror. But she frowns, clutching a silver bracelet round her wrist: it is the counterpart of that which she put onto her son to cage his powers.

“No”, she says, shaking her head at Odin: “no, he didn't shed it. I would know.”

“Then, by my Norns, what is the meaning of this?”

 

 

*

*

*

*

*

*

 

 

Thor didn't do his _loads_ when they went to sleep. No, not tonight. He only fondled and caressed his brother's body like the treasure he found it to be. And that with so much tender passion he actually had Loki sniff with bliss, wrapped up in his arms like in a pair of powerful, protecting dragon's wings.

Loki slowly fell asleep to the beautiful sensation of lips purring sweet words against his own. He felt he gently smiled as he realized how Thor had his worried mind nearly weightless with love. And that very moment he still distantly amused himself about how easily he was forgetting all his troubles with father he already _had_ forgotten them. Thor's fingertips were soft, warm, healing beads tickling his skin. Loki had never enjoyed anything like he did clinging to his _perfect_ brother that sweet moment. _Perfect_.

It was all good, yes. It would all soon be fine, the execution and the stag. Thor'd promised to manage it all, hadn't he? And he'd been even quite convincing with his reasons to say so, he and his _logics_. Yes. Loki's heart fluttered with but the furthest echoes of concern when he was gone.

The dreams he was to get tangled up in were terrible ones, however.

He ran across dark, frozen fields, _places_ rather because there grew no living things, and found himself in a monstrous cave somehow, but on a hill in there, high underground, his vision too diffuse to really see. The floor was broken up into a spiky mess of shards. His feet bled, but he didn't feel them in the howling chill. Clouds of snow powder crackled at his ears and numbed his naked skin. No thread of cloth was there protecting him.

Yet he felt the hammerfall steps of the beasts racing him down as their impacts rhythmically whipped into his bones, and he heard the grunts shot from their noses. _They smell my blood_ , Loki thought as his breath rasped in his exhausted throat.

There were five of them when he fell. He glimpsed a pair of blue feet rushing in to his right, like boulders their size, just before his face hit the splintering ground.

There were seven when they seized him, forced him on his back and pinned him down with their big, big hands. Where they grabbed Loki's limbs they crushed them. Stones would not have harmed him more. And their hands _burned_ , so cold were they. Loki shrieked with pain as they touched him blue; his skin grew _blue_ under their skin!

A heartbeat long they even seemed to fight for who'd be fingering the trophy of their hunt: Loki was just too small for all their claws. He had only two arms, two legs, and short ones altogether. Almost did he fear he would have been torn into pieces in this oversized, intimidating children's squabble. Three of them held him caught then in the end, one for each wrist and one for both his ankles, the leftovers crouching eagerly around.

Then there were countless more circling the ones already there, staring excitedly from strange, ruby red eyes.

The Indigo had come for him. They'd caught him in the end. Loki gasped as he desperately struggled in vain to break free. He yelled: “I am not you!”

Their mammoth heads moved slowly like the ones of stalking reptiles, not impressed, if anything only drawn more to him by the sound of his rebelling voice.

 _They want me back,_ he though. As if somehow he had somewhen ... belonged to them. Loki felt like a captured thief that had tried to steal himself. He didn't mean to give himself back, though.

“I AM NOT YOU!”

_And if you kill me, I am NOT …!_

The tallest of his captors was a beast of notably proud muscles – runes and exceptionally archaic, scar like lines painting his limbs – and he was the one who knelt to Loki's feet, clutching at two little shins with each fist as if holding twigs. The giant moved and turned the legs in his possession and watched as slowly, slowly they stained a growing, bruised azur, running out like ink from under his palms. Loki sobbed at the change of his body, at the sting of it, and tried to push it back. Grinding his teeth he even managed to – he didn't know how but his thighs whitened again.

At this the tall one scowled displeased. Then he spread Loki's legs and pushed them up so his knees nearly touched his own shoulders. Loki gave a shout, struggled to no avail once more and ended up whining helplessly at being so painfully bent and exposed; he felt the lips of his fold pulsate as they lay vulnerably open, the frost spitting ice into their wet inner sides; for Loki was a girl. And there was male, brute violence humming in the air.

Two others, sitting by Loki's head, took hold of her ankles and kept them in place. She was left quivering at the lead monster's mercy. The crowd craned all its necks, a hundred and more eyes drilled their beams into the figure writhing in the center of this scene, and Loki couldn't close her own against theirs. Oh, she wanted to, she wanted to escape these stares! Yet she couldn't, hypnotized and frozen in her fear. The world was spinning slowly and her vision tumbling restlessly, always again trying to focus on the faraway ceiling of this cursed winter's cave, always again ending up caught in another glowing pair of embers watching her.

Then in the nearing presence of the tallest's icy body her fold twitched fervently between her thighs. She only glanced at him - whimpering to herself - as he crawled closer, and didn't dare to read his intentions from his glare.

She meant to know them anyway.

When something touched her opening, hard, cold, rough like a stone in winter, she squealed her first of many, many sobs to come.

It was not what she'd have expected, though. No, it was meant to start off something even _worse_.

Two fingers, each one strong as four, forced their cruel way inside at a time, bringing a burning sting with them that fought a bitter fight with that _incredible_ cold of their touch. Soon there were three, _too soon_ , rocking and tearing at the small, delicate hole they'd already torn as wide as to draw blood. They stretched it even _wider_ , forcing in their fourth with a violent start, and, a whole giant's hand's breadth united, stabbed the tiny, virgin maiden's cleft until it was a hopeless wound. Loki yelped, stuttered hard screeches at the unbelievable pain mauling her up and meant to feel something rip open in her womb that should never have been apart.

The monster thrust a few times more like this, freezing but _deepening_ the pain, until there was enough space – if there was such a thing possible as enough space – for its chunky thumb to claw into the gash as well. Despite the sharpest cold, Loki's agony burst up to flames again at once. And then there was a knuckle like a frozen rock. Another. And another, all of them. Each plopping in forced desperate blares from her throat. She cried bitterly when her lungs, cramping for air in a quick, wheezing rhythm now, allowed her to breathe enough to. Her frame shook violently at each new intrusion. And the eyes, all these red eyes were _piercing_ her!

Why would he have her like this, though? He could have _had_ her, why -

The monstrous hand was in at last and clenched into a fist, big like a grown man's head. A heartbeat long the blue intruder kept himself ridiculously calm in the pulsating, shredded, little body. And that very heartbeat long poor Loki, dull with pain, almost dared to imagine she could somehow melt the ice stump penetrating her, melt it _smaller_ somehow _, just_ _away_. The blood pooling out of her lap was boiling at this point.

But the man took only a moment to finally, too, spear his prey's eyes with his own. In the end Loki could no longer avoid meeting them; the giant man slowly bent over her, curious, _calm_ without remorse, and lowered his incredibly broad face closer to hers. She saw him through a veil of shaking tears. Oh, Loki shook so _bad_.

And as he rammed in even deeper she knew she was to die.

A wrist, every rough line protruding from it, forced up in, leaving a hard and harder burn at her torn skin with each inch more passing the way. At the same time it brought that chill which would well soon, as it was pushed in higher, make her suffocate. Loki's fevered glances searched the surrounding, towering crowd for help now as her heart shrunk with each squeaking gasp she sucked in – someone, somewhere, _please_ _HELP_ – and then she actually meant to make a loved one out amongst these foreign enemies. She sobbed at the sight of someone with warm, familiar skin, someone with golden hair touching a crimson cloak.

“THO - A-AHH”, she yelped out loud, her voice breaking to pieces, body curling bitterly.

But wait, that was no _cloak_ running down Thor's shoulders, no, it was – blood. And wait, that wasn't hair flowing from his neck, it was rather like _fur_. Thor had blond fur around his neck and blood running out from its rim like from a severed head. Yes, it was Thor wearing the golden stag's dead head over his own. He only stood there, tiny between monstrous trees of alien men, seeing nothing, hearing nothing.

_Not them. Not me._

“Thor ...”

Loki choked and blinded herself with tears again. Her spine arched as the arm tore half the way out, taking a run for the next blow. She nearly fainted as she felt her innermosts fall back together where the pressing mass had left, _knowing_ she would be torn again.

Thor couldn't help her now, even if he had been able to try.

It was too much to even scream, too cold, too sharp, too _violently_ hard. Loki gargled a ridiculous mewl. Each strike, and they came faster now, felt like the frost itself raped her apart and shot its freezing seeds into her belly, because no matter how the fist drew back, the echo of it was _still there_ , infecting, growing like a parasite. Her lap bruised dark, dark blue around the limb that rode her body. Loki felt and heard herself slurp with that blood that _shouldn't ever have been blue like she could see it on the monster's arm_ , her belly twitched bitten with ice, her skin sucked up the ghastly color pouring from her middle like a sponge; soon the azur hit at her knees and navel, crawling further on and on. Cold sweat ran into every gap her crooked body wore. She bit her tongue and threw up snow.

The monster dug into her like to never stop until she'd feel his fingers in her throat. He beat her ribs up from within and he was far from done with her. Was that real or just madness as she heard her lungs chink in her chest as glass would - or as ice? Oh Hel, these cursed, red _glares_ watching her torture - silently!

Somehow, however, as the great pain, which had grown into a solid kind of iron in her chest, eventually started to slowly, gently subside, being replaced by, by what else, by just _that_ eerie cold she'd fled from, yes, this ancient essence of the cold … Loki even tried to _cling_ to her agony. Her life. Her flame. Her _difference_.

Now it was all too clear to her: As she'd refused to bow into submission she was slogged indigo from within. _They want me back._ And it worked all too well. Attacked like this Loki just could not fight the change. Glyph after glyph plopped forcefully into her lips and out again, making her feel what she was meant to _take_. There was no place inside her body left which the enormous fingers hadn't at least poked for now. The blue had reached her throat. She tasted ice as old as time. The sound of crystallizing winds purred in her ears.

Loki hadn't wanted this change. Hadn't wanted to become one of their kind. But there she lay, subdued and stolen from herself. _Changing_.

Mysterious patterns of marks and lines rippled out from her skin, patterns that whispered to her, whispers she refused to understand. The delicate swellings tingled as for the first time ever they were touched by the frozen winds, and Nine they _itched_ and _curled_ , obscenely so, yes, almost like a virgin's nipple would from a shy kiss. They formed a net, these lines, and caught Loki's whole form forever. Their triumph was a terrifying lust so strong yet delicate it nearly made her pass out – what not even all the pain had made her.

_I am not … I …._

Loki moaned with the fullest of her shaky voice as she was done. Gone.

_I am ..._

Lost. Loki was lost to the enemy. No turning back, no more. So what was she supposed to do but take it? She closed her eyes, tears frozen on her lashes, and _finally_ blinded all the red lights out. She spat loud, feral shouts with each strike that would follow. Acceptance made her howl. Who knew if ever she'd be able to … when it was done?

The bulky bone of an elbow knocked between her lips and her whole body jerked when the enormous fist clenched itself into an even firmer ball at the low end of her throat. She had not realized she wore a pair of soft, plump breasts until they slapped against her chin from this particularly heavy hit. Loki glimpsed them for the fraction of a moment. They were puffy with young blue as was everything of her now. That dark shade of her nipples and that they pulsed with a not much different sensitivity as did Loki's new glyphs almost disturbed and excited her enough to hum with _pleasure,_ Norns forbid. But it didn't even matter anymore.

That inevitable numbness which comes with cold, slowly kissing her inner soreness out, eventually even made her _moan._ Thankfully. Eagerly. She wanted more of this _feeling less_ , more of it NOW. And it grew every time she was struck with another punch. Just one more, one more, more of it, and the sooner the better, more, _please_ , just … _make me cease feeling this._

Somehow Loki found herself ride the arm like a lover, groaning gracelessly in her desperate efforts, and all the way her glyphs tickled her so _absurdly_ through the pain. She must have looked like she was enjoying this. _Ah_. And didn't she, somehow?

A thick finger suffocated her luscious cries eventually from within as it slid up and plugged her throat. When the broad tip of it rubbed on her tongue she sucked with all strength left in her. And snorted pants, delirious like from the high, far climax of desire: This was it, the last blow, the final numbness conquering her tip to toe. She felt the length of her whole body convulse in this giving up, this _death_ , this so, so wrong orgasm.

Loki opened her eyes. Her vision turned a dark, rich shade of blood.

 

 

*

*

*

 

 

And then: Darkness.

 

 

*

*

*

 

 

The next Loki perceived was being shaken. Just a second after that he heard Thor's begging, warning shouts, forming his name and other words suggesting danger.

Had his brother finally taken the stag's head off? Had he seen what Loki had become? And why was it so dark? Loki had felt his eyes change, but were the jotun a blind race? Was it _really_ blood filling their eyes?

He yelped as he thought to understand he'd never see the light of day again.

“Loki, WAKE up, PLEASE!”

“My – eyes, I'm blind, I'm blind!”

“You're not, it's night, just – ! Wake up!”

Loki squirmed and whined in Thor's grip pinning him into the mattress. His shoulders sat like anchors down and his chest and lap were locked under a body (Thor) - but he could easily have kicked and clawed around. Could have. His hands and feet felt so, so _far_ , all his extremities pulsating from the massive, frosty grips around them still.

When did they let him go?

And how had the _fist_ disappeared? The unbelievably broad elbow? Loki felt their echoes gore his body through again (and he hissed and grit his teeth so forcefully with the strong memory of pain that he bit his tongue), but somehow he knew they were not really there anymore.

“LOKI!”

The grasp on his shoulders even tightened as he was shaken again.

… how could Thor touch him at all?

It hit Loki like a brick in the face. Thor'd freeze with cold. Thor'd FREEZE on him, must have been freezing in this very moment -

“AH! Let go, I'm jotun, Thor, I'm JOTUN!”

“No-oh, what, -”

“I'M BLUE, you cannot touch me!” Loki panted fitfully. Tears wet his face in streams at the sudden, unbearable loss – Thor wouldn't ever _kiss_ him anymore – while he was desperate that he just couldn't get _rid_ of named Thor's grasp. He rebelled, brandishing his hands now to try and push his brother away – but he couldn't lay a _finger_ on him, he'd just hurt him even worse!

So unable to make use of his limbs Loki was subdued back into the mattress with a full weight start Thor hauled himself over him with, growling like in battle.

Loki didn't move then, his breath bated, and silently mewled over this tragedy: He wouldn't ever taste Thor's lips, not ever see his face again ...

_What have they done to me, the beasts?_

“Shush, it's alright, alright”, the fingers loosened a little around his frame, only to tighten down again as Loki directly struggled to throw his brother, his _beloved_ , off, “ah – shit, CALM! It's enough now! STOP!!”

Loki choked on his own spittle. But he got still as a stick again. He was obedient, strangely so, when panic had his mind in Hel like this. He felt Thor's breath stroke hot across his nose from above, coming in sharp huffs down on him. Some lone, last tears rolled from Loki's eyes as they stared as wide open as possible into the darkness.

But he frowned as he started to see shadows and forms in it at last.

“I'm changing, I think”, _am I changing … back?_

Because reconsidered now Loki's body wasn't all too cold actually. And that he could _feel_ he wasn't cold meant that he wasn't numb as well. Even the blood flowing from his fold felt uncomfortably hot as it poured down his thighs and cheeks. Hot like _real_ blood, not like that dark blue glacier spring the jotun leader had it turned into.

Thor kissed his forehead. But Loki flinched away.

“No – BLUE -”

“I'm _touching_ you”, Thor said, pressing all the patience he could muster into the fact that he couldn't have done so if Loki'd been right with what he claimed.

“But you – I – _can't_ ”, Loki sobbed. All this didn't make any sense.

“I'm touching you. You're warm, not blue. And you're not blind, it's dark, that's all. You had a dream, love. A bad dream.”

Loki gulped slowly, painfully, his throat dry and sore from the finger – that had not ever been there.

“Oh Nine”, he puled into his palms as they shot up to cover his face, realization hitting him hard; Loki shook with tears of terrified relief now – _just a dream, of course_ \- yet also with such of shame, dear, SHAME, as he all at once faced the truth of being neither girl nor bleeding from his uterus.

He was wetting his bed.

“Oh Ni-i-innne”, he stuttered out again, curling awkwardly into his perfect embarrassment. He just couldn't _stop peeing_ , try as he may to squeeze his thighs together. There was no hint of control left for him in his body, and the terror was still solid in his limbs.

Loki sobbed miserably, ignoring the fingers that tried to comb his hair behind his ears, the voice that mumbled whatever to _somehow_ calm him down.

What an abasing, mortifying mess! The mattress was soaking through. And Thor lay snuggled up tightly against him under the sheets. Naked as they were.

He didn't seem to bother much, though, as he just slung himself even tighter around his brother's pitifully doddering form to hold him til the tears started to ebb away.

Panting and somewhat dizzy Loki needed a while to find his voice again. By Hel, he didn't dare to move in his puddle, his bladder empty now for quite some moments, but … _Hel_. His legs stung with the tension. His heart, hollow but heavy, tried to hang itself with its own veins. But at least he had his head on straight again.

“I'm sorry”, he eventually rasped, “I am awake now.”

Thor groaned into his neck, relaxing his whole body with the outstretched sound of it.

“Thank heavens”, he grumbled, “you _scared_ me.”

And Loki scared himself quite a lot, too, considered he reality and his queer fantasies in contrast now. He sniffed and frowned, earnestly worried for his peace of mind. This wasn't _happening_ to him! Why did his wits forsake him so? This madness even made his body fail!

_When have I gone that wimpy as to break and go insane about a foul insinuation? OF COURSE I am not jotun and of course I cannot ever be – being a frost giant is a pure thing of birth, it's not like a disease randomly breaking loose in whatsoever race. How could my mind even come UP with so much madness? Just because father wants to believe that I've been blood bred by the Jotnar all that shit doesn't make me one of them!_

Yet still … it had just felt _so real._ And it did even now, with every shudder of remembrance Loki suffered: They came in a pulsating rhythm slower that his heartbeat, lower, and made him feel the echoes of it all over again.

“He's cold … in me”, Loki whispered more to himself than anything as there's the fist again, and then he sobbed even some more as it just welled all up, all at once wanting to spill out. He downright lamented as his words brimmed over: “I was running from them, but they caught me and – and then that tall one had his _arm_ – I was a girl, he had me with his _arm_ , all the way, Thor, it _hurt_ so much! He hurt me til I froze and all the others stood around and stared me down, all the red eyes! And you, you couldn't _help_ me, and, now, I, pee on you and the mattress is, and, I'm sorry, I don't _do_ that, I don't - “

Thor's next move was a quick and forceful one. Directly he was on Loki's mouth with an intense, long, muting kiss. He bucked his hips, rounding his spine, and sat himself back down, astraddle.

Loki felt his brother's balls and manhood slump impressive as they always were, big, weighty and soft, on his lower stomach. And then he gasped under Thor's tongue, cheeks flushing with surprise - as a hot flood poured against his belly, pooling in his navel, streaming down his sides and hips, between his already wet thighs. Melting the ice out of his core and marking him TABOO to anyone's but Thor Odinson's touch. Washing all Loki's shame away.

Thor wasn't good with words. Never had been. However, _words_ would probably not in the slightest have besoothed Loki as deeply as this feral, weird yet _perfect_ action did. It just combined all that he needed now.

And the mattress was ready to be burned already anyway.

With a low sigh of relief Thor's flow ended then. Loki lay breathing under him and he was speechless. Softly he just slung his arms around his brother's back and purred in response to let him know he shared his easing thankfully.

“Quits”, mumbled Thor then, having a wry, cocky smile in his voice.

Loki chuckled: “My, you drank a _lot_ last supper, didn't you?”

Their bodies snuggled, sticking and slipping all the same (if that was possible), hilariously squealing on each other at the movements. And they _stank_!

“Nine Realms, What are we even doing?” Loki laughed freely from his heart in their glorious puddle of pee.

“Just what we do I guess”, Thor said. Then he kissed Loki silent again (and Loki, who had really feared to have lost their kisses for all times, treasured this one exceedingly).

When Thor gently pulled back he sounded quite more serious: “Listen, I don't know why this jotun story hurts you so … but I am sorry that it even had _us_ fighting. I don't want _anything_ hurting you.”

“I know”, Loki breathed solemnly. _By now I really know._ It was so good that he could see the blurry lines of Thor's face over him. Loki smirked. “ ... but I _don't_ know where we're going to sleep now. This won't be comfy all too long I fear.”

“Mmmh … you have some pillows and blankets in store? I can make us a nest.”

“And the mattress?”

“I'll just get rid of it”, Thor shrugged.

 

 

*

*

*

 

 

And he HAD gotten rid of it. Right after they'd stolen into Loki's bathroom, standing awkwardly together in the tub (Thor'd turned out to be extremely unwieldy if it came to make himself small) and rinsed each other clean in the light of a single candle. They'd tapped back then, the naked princes, gathering all that looked plushy and bringing it along. Then Thor'd just hauled the whole stained bedclothes, mattress, sheets, everything, out of the frame, opened one of the many slim windows which their sleep lounge sported – and shot a single thunderbolt through it into the mess, leaving only a smoking pile of ash behind.

“Accurate”, Loki had praised the impressive shot. Thor'd smiled, his teeth flashing in the moonlight.

The nest they'd built in the bare bedstead was nice and cozy. Loki's chambers had _lots_ of pillows, he had realized. And quilts. And furs. So as they lay back to rest it didn't feel so much different to before – just a bit better even, as this was something they'd built together. Loki secretly enjoyed it as a child would a blanket fort. And Thor enjoyed it _obviously_.

The room still smelled like burnt (as the ashes actually lay there smoking still) but somehow the whole moment felt comforting to Loki. All he needed to survive this night was an embrace that wouldn't let him ever fall. And such as embracing, holding, _crushing_ if necessary, were arts Thor fortunately understood to perform. If Loki was to count on _anything_ then on this to be sure.

Once he was curled into his brother as if they were two spoons in the drawer Thor shushed some last sweet words into Loki's ears and snogged his hand up against his cheek to gently shove his thumb into his little brother's mouth. And Loki, sleepy as he was, actually took the offer granted and gently suckled himself back to a hopefully more peaceful slumber. He smiled as he totally understood why Thor had once found this a soothing act whenever he would ever have been scared. It worked.

Alas, he still was to wake with _some_ gasps of horror that night. Though Loki was thankfully not dreaming again or at least not remembering … there was that other terror dragging his mind down at last; that very down to earth terror called _father_.

Uh, it was stupid to even care anymore, Thor'd _promised_ to just not kill the stag. No one could have forced him anyway; wasn't that his right as prince and heir of the throne? He had a choice, a voice! One he had used way too rarely in the past actually. Loki found himself even a little proud and definitely touched his brother wanted to stand up for him that way. Thor thumbsucker, scared to death by a _stool_ , was eager to be mature for him. And the execution: As soon as the healer who had nursed him would have only _smelled_ the royal guards trying to seize his frock the withdrawal from his statement concerning the prince's conditions would have been assured like morning after night. The men working in the palace knew how the palace worked. If a royal scandal threatened their lives they knew better than to cling to truth, even if they had seen it with their very eyes. Better retire from job and name and wealth instead of losing their heads. Well, _everyone_ made mistakes time and again. Or the _cradles_ had been defect. A shame, a shame!

Yet that would not carry conviction to Odin. Most probably not. He wouldn't have his hands on anything against his younger anymore. But in his _mind_ he would have even more against his strange, suspicious, seriously not fitting in princeling, stone in his king boot for too many years already, that everyone considered jealous, foul and evil. Home would have been _ugly_ then with father always watching him. Loki'd have been not much more but a prisoner allowed to walk around. And darn, Loki _did_ care what his bullhead of a father thought of him.

He still got headaches even trying to guess why the geezer was so fixated on the idea of _Loki and the Jotnar_  at all – and it scared the Trickster that one shivering part of him didn't even want to know. He could have thought this one out easily if only he had dared to. But Loki shrank from it, in mind as much as in his bones.

_Hel damn you, ancient, one eyed fart._

It was indeed silly to care much more. Yet Loki found he couldn't leave it be. He was a brooder and had always been. And as he then, the middle of the night had just risen above the realm, could by no means fall back to sleep again his mind started to work on high speed: He thought out scenarios and lies and plans like a director his stage dramas which would preferrably have resulted in Odin confessing that he'd been wrong and Loki being washed clean from that ugly jotun stain on his poor soul.

However, all he came up with, giving him no more but frustratingly short lived hopes, was soon to be shattered by the fact that Loki had no magics helping him out. He had not ever felt that bracelet, wicked thing, muzzle his powers down more than he did tonight. Despair and anger made him cramp his jaw. There was just nothing he could say or do.

Nothing.

Thor huffed his lovely breath into Loki's hair. Loki made a face, defeated and really sad, and softly writhed into his big, warm brother for comfort, kissing Thor's thumb still lying close to his pouting lips.

_Nothing._

It seemed he was just doomed to always be the underdog in Asgard's royal family. He couldn't get this right. He couldn't get _himself_ right in his father's eye. But then again, oh well, had Loki ever stood a chance to anyway? Even before this mess and all had even started? No. He was nothing good and worthy. Not to Odin.

_Nothing._

But...

Suddenly Loki's eyes sprang open. His heart pounded heavy echoes in his hollow chest.

_Wait. Nothing – yes, that's IT!_

All flustered and excited Loki realized that this hole in his mind, this absence of tricks, lies and stories, _solutions_ , was just THE way to the _perfect_ story:

The void.

_I travelled the void. To secretly lay hands on the stag. I made it flee from Sif as I found it a shame to have it killed, I wanted it tamed instead. A present for my brother's coronation. I couldn't have anyone know, though, and tried to walk another path than Heimdall's bridge. The spell to allow me access to such a path seemed to not have worked first, but then I was sucked into the void where I stood - in the library, looking up if I had missed something - and I nearly got completely lost in it. You saw what it made me become. That's, too, why Heimdall didn't find me; he can see what is existing, yet the void and all it swallows somehow doesn't. I do not remember how I finally fell out of it and reached my destination, Vanaheim, but once I found what a great fool I've been shame sealed my mouth. I feared your disappointment like each man fears death, father._

Yes. This made sense. This was perfect! Remained only still these goddamned  rape marks stymieing Loki's success. Yet all at once there was a plan to finally brush them away, all and for once; Loki held it in his mind like something holy he had found, and he saw it clear as virgin ice in the cool morning.

He didn't even need his magics to make this work!

But alas, the next thought made him shrink, he'd probably have _lost_ them. Forever. Loki froze, hesitantly griping his own wrist. The tiny silver chains felt harmless and so fragile in his palm. Yet there they forced all that had ever made him special down. Uneasy Loki tried to swallow that sour hesitation. It wouldn't be that easily swallowed, however.

What he was up to tell could have cost him the possibility of ever regaining his magical freedom. What he was up to tell would have made Odin think him innocent concerning that jotun farce … yet stupid enough to misuse a power stronger than himself. He was _dependent_ on playing stupid if he wanted this to work. Loki was bound to play unworthy. And to accept the inevitable punishment resulting from that. Odin would even have done it for his best, goes without saying.

Loki's grip tightened around the bracelet.

_Am I to wear your mocking weight until I die?_

He grit his teeth, tensing his spine, a sudden emotionality shuddering his whole body through. Tears burned the corners of his eyes. No matter what he did, he couldn't win in this. It wasn't fair!

His magics were his passion and his strength, his _Mjolnir_ , to speak so – and all the little respect ever paid to him was founded on _them_. Loki was _worthless_ without them. He had already felt way too lost only having been robbed of their presence for that little while, and he had thought he'd get them back, of course he had thought that!

But … Loki gulped and felt his neck soften, letting himself sink back into his brother's body that was such a soothing wall against him, an earthen, tight cave for the frightened hare … then he fingered tenderly for Thor's big, warm hand and stroked the moonlight across its skin … did Loki _need_ his magics anymore to be happy, his only talent to make him worth at least _a bit_? Loki sobbed with a gentle smile on his face.

No.

He didn't need his magics now. Not now that Thor's love gave him a value he would never have dreamed of possessing before.

Thus Loki had made up his mind. It was time for the final act.

“Brother”, he breathed into the dark and kissed Thor's knuckles.

Thor grumbled into Loki's neck.

“Thor, I can't sleep.”

He turned in Thor's arms and couldn't help but treasure that cozy, cozy feeling of their skin stroking so naturally on each other's like they'd never been apart. Having rolled his way around Loki was close to that peaceful face that enjoyed snuggling up in the curve of his nape so much. He couldn't see many details like this, but that what he saw was beautiful.

“Hey you.”

“ …..mmmmmh?”

“Wake up, Thor”, Loki smiled and tried to stir his napping lion with a kiss. Thor's big, plump lips were _nightwarm_. Dear. Loki sighed under them.

But as Thor wouldn't wake he saw no other way but to peg his nose shut and seal his mouth with another kiss. Til he woke gasping aloud.

“Who – what, oh!”

Loki chuckled into his palms. “So there you are, dozy devil!”

“What is it, did I snore?”

“No. I can't sleep and wanted you with me.”

“Oh. Selfish beast!” Thor squeezed him. “What is it? Dreams again?”

“No, no I just – I can't stop thinking. Tomorrow and all these things. But I might – just perhaps – have a kind of idea to make any fights and arguments unnecessary. I have a story to tell father that would please his mistrust in my words. But I'd need to prearrange something before ...”

“So you've been brooding?” Thor's voice had that beautiful rumble of reproach it had recently adopted alongside worry and good will.

Loki made a face (and indulged in the care).

“I'd need your help. And I'd need it tonight - now. Would you?”

“Is it dangerous?”

“No”, Loki lies with a heart flying with excitement, “and it won't even take long. A quarter hour and we're back.”

Thor writhed and rumbled in the warm sheets, stretching his limbs. “Then yes, can't quite say no to you anyway.”

“Thank you”, Loki pecked him once again and broke free to quickly get started. “Come! We are going for a night walk. Or night _flight_ , to be precise. I'll have you bring Mjolnir - and Fandral.”

Thor only chuckled: “So … what _is_ my cub up to here?”

“Guess you'll see soon enough. I have a plan.”

 

 

*

*

*

 

 

“And you really think this will work?”

All realms, Thor's voice was more a NOISE sometimes, especially when Loki'd clearly instructed him to whisper!

“ _Shhhhhhh_ ”, made Loki up to his brother with a cringing neck. As much as he found himself impressed with the whole adventurous, runaway-ish _we do what we want_ atmosphere buzzing around the two of them since they'd stealthily (fearlessly, holding-hands-ily) went to work Loki _was_ kind of nervous now. Because _if_ they had been discovered the whole affair would have ended up seeming even more dubious to Odin in the end. Loki should have _thought_ about possibility only worsening it all. Yet then again he wouldn't have listened to reason anyway.

But couldn't his beloved doofus just for once be tactful, really?

“Uh … _sorry_ ”, Thor said under his breath then, remaining helplessly scratching his head.

Loki crouched in front of the key hole in Fandral's door and pulled his belt from his trousers; knocking had not roused the warrior, yet evidently he was there, snoring like a saw chopping off woods. Loki had not dared to knock too loud, though, nor to even call, because (as noted before) this mission they were on demanded secrecy. None must have known tomorrow that the Dashing had been visited as such a late, suspicious hour. NO one. Loki had even convinced Thor to come out barefooted with him so their boots would not have been heard. Asgard's corridors echoed so at night.

If only the oaf wouldn't have rasped his nails so loudly through his mane – Loki even grit his teeth against _that_ sound. As if it was able to raise the dead.

He fumbled on his buckle, fingers tense but trustworthy, and pinned the rod of it into the key hole finally, poking around in there. This shouldn't have been all too tricky, Loki'd done such things before.

As only moments later a tiny _click_ told him that he had overcome the lock the Trickster gloated in his thievish triumph, flashing Thor a big, white grin.

“Told you I'm good with locks”, he purred.

Thor rolled his eyes. “Well, I didn't mean _that_ ”, he grumbled silently, “the whole plan I mean … what if we're getting caught?”

“ _Sh!_ We won't. As long as you do everything I say and by the Nine keep quiet til we're back safe in my rooms.”

The door wearily squealed as the princes sneaked inside.

Fandral napped peacefully and without grace, just like one would have imagined him to. Loki tiptoed over to his bedside as he heard Thor carefully close the door. He gulped and licked his smirking lips.

_Step one: masterfully done. I doubt we've roused anyone's interest so far._

“Whoa - I can't see my _feet_ ”, Thor rumbled, though, and tripped with heavy steps around the chamber. Purposefully. Definitely looking for something.

Ugh. Loki knew what that meant.

“ _STOP, no -_ _NO light_ ”, he hissed over his shoulder, making Thor flinch next to the unlit torch he had just crept up to; the tall blond took a step back, shooting his brother one quizzical stare. Loki gesticulated angrily as if to scream with his hands what his throat tried to hush down: “Someone could see, dumbass! It's light enough with the moon. Now just come over here.”

“ _Sorry_.”

Alright. So they were up to wake the snoring warrior now. Two unexpected visitors. In the middle of the night. And Loki didn't want the man squealing all Asgard's roofs apart.

He carefully knelt next to the sleeping man. Thor sat down on the opposite side of the bed, shooting Loki a nod and such a seriously obedient glance it just couldn't have looked _not_ adorable. Against all tense determination Loki couldn't help but smirk at Thor's good will.

“I'll try and shake him up a bit”, he explained and gently grabbed for the snorer's shoulders.

“Mh.” That nod again! The Thunderbolt was like ready to fight all worlds for their little plan to succeed. Loki chuckled with the sudden, overwhelming urge to tell this stupid man -

_I love you._

_Oh._

It was then, however, that Loki noticed he had never ever said this out loud yet. He gulped his chuckles awkwardly down through a throat that felt too tight for them.

_Well._

No, he didn't want this to slip out like by the way. He should have tried to find another, better moment for it. Really. But he should have got it out _at all_ , and better soon than late. Thor'd told him many times by now! How come Loki had never?

But to work. To work now finally!

Loki ignored the nasty knot in his guts.

“Fandral”, he hissed, carefully shaking the man, “Fandral, wake up!”

It was hopeless, though. Loki would have needed to yell to make himself heard over that heavy sawing sound leaving the warrior's open mouth.

“ _Na, fuck it!_ ”

Thor screwed up his eyelids in anticipation.

“Alright, punch him”, Loki commanded with a scowl as he had Fandral's mouth muffled with both hands, “right in the guts.”

Thor didn't even shrug.

And that, thanks to Thor's legendary hammer fist, finally bore some fruits: with a wheal coughed into Loki's palm the man woke up into a struggling and panicking mess.

“Calm down, it's us”, Thor rumbled to his friend.

“Thor and Loki”, Loki pointed out as the warrior didn't seem to get much meaning into the term _us_ so shortly after being slogged from his dreams.

As he eventually recognized the voices, though, he stilled under Lokis hands, eyes wide and only just adjusting to the dark. Loki let go.

“Boys”, Fandral gasped, “ _why_? I nearly shat a brick!”

“Sh-sh-sh! Please, silence! No one must know that you're awake!”

“But he wasn't silent when he slept”, Thor said skeptically.

“Oh”, made Loki, “uhm, then snore for him while I explain the details.”

Thor didn't even cock his brows.

After a long, disdaining glance at the snoring throne heir Fandral turned to the younger princeling once again: “So _what_ are you madmen doing here, Urd's Wrinkles!”

“We need your help. Father wants war with Jotunheim because he thinks I've been raped by Frost Giants. He can't have that unless I admit his theories, though. And thus he wants to kill the Golden Stag and risk a war with Vanaheim to force me into admitting the abuse. I need your help to smother up the existence of my bruises. And it _must_ be tonight.”

“Yeh, alright”, Fandral sighed, shaking his head, ”I get that this is actually serious, yeh - now _stop_ it already, I don't sound like a pig, Thor! - right, so: what would you have me do in this?”

Loki grinned. There was no such thing as people agreeing on something they didn't even know shit about yet.

_Wonderful._

“Are you good at acting pain?”

 

 

*

*

*

 

 

Only moments later the princes of Asgard silently burgled the healing halls.

Thor held onto Mjolnir and Loki onto him as they soared upright on the level of the very high set window bows: They had no glass. They let the cradles and their fine, enchanted mechanics breathe. And they could easily have been slipped through, unlike the portal barred with spells, because one simply didn't imagine anyone to climb, let alone _fly_ up to recklessly steal in through their entrance.

“And you _really_ think this will work?” Thor hissed his words from earlier nervously under his breath, not much the daring warrior in the face of a stealthy project like this one. The thrill of beating someone up so he could not beat _you_ up seemed to be one handled much easier if you'd been a thing godly muscles, really, than this sneaking into somewhere forbidden, hoping, _sweating_ to just not get caught.

Loki rolled his eyes with a sigh and swung his legs closer to the wall.

“Ew, don't”, Thor warned as his little brother wanted to finally set his feet onto the window sill, “what if a siren blares loose once the house feels your touch?”

Loki rolled his eyes again: “ _Shhhh_! And don't worry so much, coward. I know exactly what I'm doing: This way's safe. I may not be able to wield magics right now but I can feel them well enough – there are none put to these windows. Set us down already.”

“But-”

“ _Thor_.”

“Uh. Uhlright.”

They stood on the sill then, staring inside. The halls were dark and, dear, the windows high indeed. It was as if a chasm yawned under their feet, black and with no ground at all.

“Good luck, brother, finding the cradles in that cave, let alone _rig_ them”, Thor said as he tightened his grip round his brother's waist (so he would not fall down like, you know, like he nearly did back in Vanaheim).

“I've not had you bring Mjolnir just for the flight. You will light our way.”

“Oh”, made Thor, understanding suddenly, and let the wedge of his hammer glow and fizzle with tiny bolts like discovering it as a tool of thunder for the first time.

“But just a teensy shimmer, don't you make a sun of it!”

“Alright.”

Loki clung tightly to Thor again, a delicious grin pulling the corners of his mouth up into both his glowing cheeks as he found he was actually having fun in this, and they jumped down into a soft and slow descending.

This was it, the final touch to his little show to be perfect for tomorrow. Loki felt it prickle in his fingertips; he couldn't ever have gone wrong with fiddling a bit here and there in the cradles' engines, switching some crystals, turning some strings, because he _had_ read that book back then, had he not?

Fandral would soon have made a giant fuss, getting himself diagnosed with whatsoever weird diseases as maybe a neck broken like multiple times or menstrual cramps in his buttocks, brain flatulences even! Oh, he'd have made a fuss as ridiculous and loud as to soon enough reach Odin's ears, too, making him seriously wonder if the cradles didn't _quite_ work strange lately … and if so, in the end, he hadn't wronged his younger son.

As Thor's boots hit the floor they gave a beat synchronous to Loki's triumphant heart. He knew this time he was meant to succeed!

 

 

*

*

*

*

*

*

 

 

It's not even the faintest gray of dawn when Loki smiles to himself in his dark chambers; someone bangs at the front gate. Thor squeezes his hand excitedly. He held it in his own since they lay back into their nest, waiting, slumbering lightly, waking again and waiting. They could as well have gotten dressed to sit the night out with some nice torchlight, but no, somehow not really. They rather felt like cuddling this through, and anyhow, tousled hair and puffy eyes are simply _the_ innocent looks after one not so innocent night of business. 

“Now that worked faster than I would have thought”, Loki breathes with a kiss to Thor's mouth. He feels his pulse speeding up in his veins as they get up, feet bare and only simple trousers on their bodies.

_Showtime._

It knocks again before they can even sneak through the short passage leading from the bedroom to the main chamber. Thor walks close to Loki's back, warming his skin with the heat of his chest, assuring him that he's protected.

 _Alright, act sleepy, grumpy and confused at this late hour,_ Loki tells himself with a nervous sigh as his hand grips the door latch.

“I'm right here”, Thor purrs into his nape.

“I know”, Loki whispers back cheekily, “but a bit too close, don't you think? Back a little off, _my_ _brother_.” Just because whomever Odin might have sent to get them, everyone would be unsettled by the princes smooching skin on skin like this.

“Ah, sure.” There's that insightful smirk in Thor's rumble. And in his fingers giving Loki's butt a squeeze as long as it's still in their reach. Loki gasps and kicks in vain after the rascal taking his distance behind him.

As he opens the door Loki knows he looks perfectly normal for the situation. He always knew how to use his face. And the surprise forcing his lazy eyelids open isn't even that much acted, as he finds himself faced by at least thirty guards standing in three rows saluting him.

“What … “, _is it that the old sack finds it necessary to send half an army for me?_

“My prince”, speaks the foremost man and formally bows his head, “forgive this late intrusion. The King, your father and Father Of All, demands your immediate presence at his abode – oh! Prince Thor! I”, and he falls down to his knees (making Loki cock his brows), “you were sent for, too, heir of Asgard, but you were not expected here!”

“I spent the night at my brother's”, Thor grunts. Nearly a bit too much _so what?_ But well.

“Oh. Yes, indeed”, the kneeling commander clears his throat, gathering some new posture, “how lucky I am, then, to find you both in the same spot. As I have mentioned, you will be escorted to your high father Odin now. He will not allow delay, so if you'd follow - “

“Sure”, says Loki, “ we will just get dressed.”

And so they leave for Loki's plan to flower. However, as they're led through Asgard's ways these are not as deserted as one would have thought them to be at night: People, the rich and poor, stand gathered in groups, whisper and hesitantly even run around, clearly unsettled. Some subtle turmoil must be shaking the palace. Something lies literally in the _air_ … 

Loki stills with a bad, bad feeling crawling up his guts as he suddenly realizes what's so wrong: “ … do I smell fire? What happened here?”

“We are not instructed to instruct the sons of Odin. If you please would come along?”

Thor gulps and shoots Loki a glare. Probably asking if they could possibly have burned Fandral alive.

_It's a coincident. Someone forgot to put a hearth down and it burned some curtains. This does NOT mean -_

But alas, people won't stop hissing the word _cradles_ behind their hands into each other's ears.

_The cradles burn, the cradles ..._

And doesn't the escort circling them through this scene suddenly seem rather like keeping them in custody than guarding?

Loki doesn't feel his knees the rest of their walk towards father. Thor's feet sound clumsy, too.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Now that you found no sex you hate me, but remember that I said I'm sorry, didn't I?
> 
> Speaking of language, when exactly did I start writing ORF instead of oaf ... ? :'D
> 
> AND BTW AS THOR PEED ON HIS BABY NOW HE WILL GO SUPER SAIYAN ONCE LOKI GETS MARRIED TO A PROPER JOTUN PRINCE (whoops snowflakeson spoilers #sorrynotsorry but as I am not even sure if I will ever make it to the sequel guess I can afford giving a little of the plot away already [so much for my boasting about how I'd write the lastie this time, uh])
> 
>  
> 
> Goodbye for now. Mind that I die without comments. And if I die, the fic dies, too.


	33. Home is peace is understanding

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Disappointing my three readers like a boss.
> 
> #bewaregrammar #iambackandnoonecares #whoneedsthorpovanyway #whereisthesmut

 

 

 

Odin is angry.

Loki nearly chokes on his own spittle the moment his brother and he are shown into father's rooms. The walls around are close to humming with that fierce, thick burn of a tension loaded in their servile grip: This tension is a danger so silent and so self explanatory it could scare away all thunders with their boasting storms and growls. And how could it not, is it after all mirroring the world consuming might of the exalted one who once begot the god of thunder himself.

However, sitting on that divan in his nightgown like this, his hands empty of Gungnir and his broken eye naked, Odin seems even more intimidating, just the old father of two on the outside, as if he'd glare down at his sons from the throne. It's all in his _glare_. He doesn't need no ceremonious appearance for this effect. Dear Norns, he's angry. And it takes _a lot_ to make him.

Whatever this cursed lot might be here. Loki chews on a particular and doughy foreboding.

_But he can't know that it was me who rigged the cradles, on fire or not. Black Beasts of Hel, he cannot know!_

Thor clears his throat to Loki's right, awkward and sure aware of the situation as well. As rarely as they have come to witness such a mood in the regal man who raised them, they both did learn early enough to sense and not challenge it. They stand like boys faced with this sudden wrath and can't do much but wait for it to somehow not erupt too violently on their heads.

Imagine, Loki wanted to start this chat with a cocky something like _this dawn is rather starry_ or _now your patience isn't getting younger_ for having been called in on the matter so early _..._ yet there he can't but gulp it down, his tongue swelling his throat silent as if stung by a bee. He won't say anything now, oh no, better not push at it.

Behind their backs then are the portals being shut with a bang so loud and deep and echoing it makes the princes flinch. Even the dark, gold-blooden light seems to be quivering.

“Well now”, Odin bites at length, “there I've a blooming idiot and a firestarter!”

Loki coughs as he swallows the wrong way.

_He knows. Of course he knows._

But how on - HOW? Heimdall? No. The guardian speaks only if he's asked to! Odin however doesn't look like he's been to any place far tonight, he's _barefeeted_ even, and if he'd called the guardian in the man would be standing in some corner of this room now, judge-staring Thor and Loki down. Someone _must_ have seen them, though. Or heard them. Or Loki lost something to give his identity away. Or maybe Fandral blew the plan, maybe – no, now that's too dramatic, Fandral wouldn't have revealed them with his _dying words_ , Loki did NOT kill him, the fool! And how in Hel did the cradles actually catch FIRE, really?

Alright, he might have switched the wrong parts in the engines. It was dark. And he was just a little trippy from it all. A hideous mix of all the things that ever backfired at him knot themselves tightly around his air pipe.

_Oh Nine. Oh Nine, I ruined it all._

If only he'd not feel like _sinking_ suddenly, sucked up into himself like one would be in quicksand.

“ … what does this mean, father?” Thor's brave to even ask. But someone _has_ to make the volcano burst in the end.

Odin for his part doesn't bother to stand up and form a solid, towering threat with the relic mass his ancient body is. His voice is powerful enough to be a monster on its own.

“THIS MEANS that YOUR BROTHER slipped away under your SNORING guard to SET THE SANATORIUM ON FIRE! As I hear you were with him, were you not, Thor? And what GOOD was it? NOTHING!”

Loki only just resists the urge to inch away and press his back against the door as he stutters: “What – fire, do you even … _what_?!”

“SHUT YOUR MOUTH! I will have truth from you or NOTHING! This game's over now! I don't know HOW, but I know WHY you committed this misdeed! You tried to trick me, little kid, me, Odin Allfather! Think me old and foolish, don't you? Did you REALLY think burning the cradles down would make me doubt the treacherous marks that have been found on you? ADMIT your foul alliance with the jotun race, AT ONCE!”

“But-”

“SUCK this false whine down! I dare you lie in my face any longer!”

Alright. This is not how Loki hoped this would go. This is a disaster. Abruptly his wits abandon him, so much as to leave him only dodder behind his brother's back for shelter. He doesn't even get the tiny yet important detail that Odin does not seem to know that Thor was involved in the deed as well. What _does_ he mean to know, and how, then? That is what Loki should be asking himself, using it to his advantage. But right now it won't get through to him. He could have wet himself again and doesn't even know if he would notice, so terrified stands he, peeping with wide, wide eyes over Thor's shoulder: And he looks terribly _guilty_ like this.

But Thor's big palm protectively comes cupping his hip. That contact keeps him standing at least.

“Where's mother?”, Thor demands to know. Loki's eyes nervously wander, finding only deserted space in the room.

_Yes … where might she be?_

“She's checking on the injured.” As Odin probably sent her to. So she wouldn't be here interrupting.

Gulping hard at this Loki realizes Thor and himself standing all on their own in this fight; as little as Frigga may ever dare to say against her husband, her final words would always influence Odin for good.

But finding her not here is not even what wrecks him the most.

_The injured._

“Ahm …”, his heart beats painfully fast, “have people ... died?”

“NO, you fiend! But there could have! Do you even KNOW what you've done? Do you even CARE?”

 _Could have. Oh Fandral._ His forehead goes down on Thor's shoulder in relief.

“Father, Loki did not - “

“SILENT! I am not talking to you, Thor! And Loki, I command you _speak_ now, and you better do! Come out behind there, will you, coward! You BETRAY me and then HIDE away? A DAUGHTER wouldn't have brought shame to me like that! Snake is what they call you, yet you're nothing but a spiteful worm! This might as well be my last time struggling with you AT ALL and I CLAIM facing the man I tried in vain raise you to be!”

Alackaday, some words hit most of all. Loki boggles with a dry sob. Cruel stings at once bite down his heart, shot from the suggestive insults, and dig right into all old childish wounds there ugly with scar tissue already well before: _Coward. Sissy. Fairy. Queer. Letdown Princeling. Failure._ _Waste. Liar, liar, liar._

Odin has never been the one to call him names like such, degrading himself to open disdain … but Loki always felt he _thought_ them at his second's mere sight, at all the ill successes Loki piled upon himself under the pressure of the strict and violent and heroic aesir upbringing. Hearing Odin just let it all out now, however, after all these silent years, is harrowing indeed. His father must be almost done with him. Giving him up.

Loki shakes.

But the same instant an unknown kind of grudge splits the gooey skin of his helplessness open; he's just _sick_ of himself like this! An instinct makes him speak something his mind has not yet even really thought out round, something his mouth but seems to have spoken like a million times before.

“ _Command_ me?” His voice is a sheer lament. “You COMMAND me?”

He stalks some steps out, leading him ahead between Thor and father (somehow, even as Thor tries to keep him safe behind himself) and he sways his head in such deep disappointment which no child should feel the right to show towards their parents. _Disappointment first, to stun a raging's confidence._

“I WANTED to confide in you, father, by dawn, just as you told me. I had my mind made up hours ago! But you couldn't resist throwing the next best evil at hand upon my shoulders like I'm ALWAYS the first to blame! And why I hide from you? Because you cannot hear me out! I HAVE a truth for you, I have, but will you listen? You declared me guilty way back, not for what I do but what I _am_ and most of all for what I _lack_ , and I can't do anything to change _that_ ,” there's that new passion for strategic warfare, mindfare, squiggling in his guts as he speaks (because sometimes telling yourself you're lying makes it easier to bear telling a truth) and the will to just finally pull this act off makes Loki broken winded. His gestures are dramatic, just as they should be. _Beautiful reproach, the second art._

Yes, he steps on stage now. His dialogues he knows well enough. A sweeping transition from this joyless overture is all he needs, a bridge to where he meant to go in the first place. He will not have this nasty start ruin his whole drama, will he?

Loki goes on - phase three. _Bittersweet scorn._ And suddenly he knows it: Odin doesn't know _shit_. He's only smelling it. But he can't prove a thing.

“Nevertheless, AGAIN you build you sour accusations on nothing but guesses, or, PRAY tell, have you _seen_ me light that fire? I did NOT do what you want me to have done, NONE of it still-”, _and now my most formidable challenge to let me tell my ONLY story, yes, some tears, these tears are good, it's mature tears I'm weeping there -_

Alas, if one plays tricks, too many, on the bridge, eventually he must falter. And if he falters, well, he falls.

Odin just will not have it.

“I told you not to LIE! By my dead fathers, I will have the truth or I will HAVE YOU IN THE DUNGEONS!!!”

And this is when Thor decides it's time to step in. Loki cannot even bring his flinch to an end as he's suddenly grabbed by the shoulder, some extraordinary roar beside him calling out something _ENOUGH_ or so, too stormy to be understood, too lightning strike and roll of thunder, and as he's being pushed behind he sees his brother looming tall over that barefooted doom in a nightgown that their father is.

Raindrops trample on the roof, angrily and wildly so. Howlers of winds, accompanied by heavy clouds and knightly flashes, hum a solemn song. And then.

Well, then Thor decides it's time to pull down his pants.

Loki's jaw drops at the sight of Thor's spick and span caboose blocking out Odin's face to him, illustriously presenting the glory of the Thunderer's fruitful loins to the King of Gods and Asgard himself, _their old man_ , damned Nine, and _right in his face_.

As Thor thuds his fists into his hips like that giant, hopeless child he just is Loki can't but wheeze at the sight; the buckle of Thor's open belt swings to and fro from the waistband where it's stretched around his knees. Just imagine what more _Thor_ is wagging there!

And if that isn't already enough ...

“It was ME! You want the truth, father? You have it, it was ME who bruised Loki so! It was an accident, I didn't mean him harm because I LOVE my brother, but then the damage was done and he ran away with a magic trick! I'm strong and dimensioned enough to fit his marks! You can't deny my force – enough now with this madness!”

A very proud and very daring thunderclap bursts overhead, slapping the atmosphere.

This is how Thor told Odin what they do.

Game over.

Not that there's anything to say additionally or against this ultimate OH GOD WHAT JUST HAPPENED, nor that there's anything to think about at all now anymore. Thor gave them away. The secret is out. The secret is out and they're going to be blood-eagle'd or flayed or broken on the wheel or burned alive or dismembered by racing steeds bound to all their limbs -

The moment Loki's knees give in under him (and he thinks _I am going to faint again, I'm fainting way too often, this is not good for my health_ ) is just the instant Odin palms his withered face from his firstborn's panorama with two heavy, hollow hands … and lets out a groan as exhausted as only time can be.

Thenceforth like for millennia Loki blinks, crouching on the floor, the blood in his ears pumping hysterically. Thor slightly inches, trying to keep up his awkward pose. Odin's hands just remain over his face; he wears them as a mask, hiding his thoughts regarding that so dangerous confession of his favorite son, his golden heir.

And time _crawls_. It crawls so slowly.

“I didn't _tell_ him to say that”, Loki blurts out eventually with a squeak in his voice because he's _desperate_ enough and only more so, hearing just how desperate he sounds, “I – I mean, I mean Thor, why, are you NUTSO? Why would you SAY that? Father, he's only trying – I don't know – to help me? But that did NOT happen, NOTHING between us, no! I wouldn't! Not even DRUNK! None of us would!” He's furious, his arms and hands cutting the air to strengthen his denial. As if Odin was looking.

Thor's gaze meanwhile darts shattered to his brother over his shoulder, and half naked as he still stands the Thunderman seems really deeply stung by his little lover's vehemence in denying them. The face he pulls wails stories - as if Loki was _caring_ right now!

What did the oafhead _think_ , however? What did he try to gain, say, Odin's _BLESSING_?

_No. Gods, NO._

“Alright,” Loki pants on, “you win, I'll tell you all I know - and if you don't believe me just have me in chains, in worse that these”, he pulls at the magic bracelet, _mother, I am on my knees and begging, can it be?_ “I won't complain, I'll bear it all, don't have us executed for this, _please_ , Thor's only being stupid - “

“ _BUT - !_ ”, Thor sobs a loud protest.

“STUPID! You better take back what you said! Do you want our heads on a pike?” Because really, how does he even DARE risk so much, risk _them_ , their lives and so all that they need to be together and to kiss and love? How were they meant to _love_ each other ever enough if they died now? They've only loved so little yet!

Loki jumps up and staggers hungrily ahead to meet his brother – Nine, he doesn't know if he has ever been so ANGRY with that potmind before - and Thor actually dominantly _grunts_ at him: “I'm taking a STAND for you! I want this jotun madness OVER with now finally!”

“By telling something even WORSE?! By my green _horse_ , now cover up that THING!”

“NO!”

“Oh yes, you will, you monstrous brat!”

They are in effect of this outburst struggling then, because, you know, _of course_ they are, and for a heartbeat long it seems as though the fighting brothers don't even remember Odin there in front of them. Loki grabs heartily down for Thor's trousers to force them back up round his waist, and Thor, snapping for Loki's fragile wrists, totally will not let that happen. Loki shows all teeth he owns, all to the last, as he thrusts hisses out between them from the enormous effort he's making. Thor meanwhile scowls as deep as to nearly blind himself under the bulges of his brows because he actually falters at his weak brother's impressive impact.

When they both slip, their boots squeaking on the marble ground, the awkward scuffle ends as quickly as it started, that and painful for them both: Loki wrests the belt up high enough to finally clasp the buckle. Thor in turn yowls out as said buckle viciously pinches and tears at the skin of his voluminous and in-the-way sausage. And as he powerfully winces somehow one of his bulky elbows knocks up Loki's face who in turn gasps and covers his nose, stumbling backwards til he topples and bumps on his butt, reprising some kind of weird Vanaheim Déjà Vu.

“Ahhhw,” Loki twangs a high, sharp pitch, gargling, “Dhor, my NOTHE, you - “

\- at the same time as -

“ _Shit_ , you SQUISCHED me, Loki!” Loudly Thor complains, too loud to hear anything else and _hunching_ with his hands pressed hard into his crotch: “I'm bleeding!”

Not that Loki's _not_. “Ohhwwww”, he groans again, writhing on the ground, red dripping from his chin and iron oozing out his tongue around his teeth, “… dhith dime id'th _really_ broken, you pithfuck!”

“ _WHAT_ ”, comes then, yet quite consumed by his own problem right now the elder prince does not much mean to hear an answer.

Like this the two remain, grunting and grimacing against their sudden agony. Like way too big, too little boys and nothing else.

Odin raises from his divan. Both Loki and Thor still at once as the movement reminds them of their father's presence. Loki gulps, alarmed, ashamed, and Thor scowls defiantly.

Until the almighty King of Asgard roars with laughter. He nearly _topples_ , and that quite a while, before he ends the unexpected fit with two pairs of bewildered eyes on him and a melancholic, rueful sigh nuzzling in his beard.

“Urda, you two never grow up, do you? When have I forgotten I am dealing with but _boys_?” He shakes his head and, rather to himself, continues: “I am older than I thought. I sense evil where it cannot be.” Then, glancing at his sons: “Are you done now?”

None of them dares reply, not even voice agreement. A _yes_ Odin finds sufficient enough.

“Thor. Cover yourself. Loki, stand up.”

They obey silently.

Meanwhile Loki tries in vain to sniff the blood up his nose. It's useless, though, stuffed by itself from the blow it just keeps dripping and _pulsing_ vehemently, yes, his whole face glows with ripples of pain. And breathing is quite tough like this with a tongue like a ball in his mouth because he bit down so hard on it. The lot he manages to swallow, sipping in through his lips, is a hot and salty stream making him sick of his stomach. Was that really NECESSARY, really?

Anyway, he feels a lot more sober now from angst and anger. And no way fit to face whatsoever kind of mental battle anymore. He can't even guess what is to be now, try as he may, as Odin is and always was the one miracle mind the trickster-born couldn't even _try_ unlock for his cunning gifts to analyze. But somehow he remains only a dull bit scared. Much stronger's embarrassment pulling at his limbs; that laughter was the least he would have thought to happen. What was it telling, however? That Thor and he look like the fools they are? That Thor's confession is declared utter, hilarious and childish nonsense? Or that it just seems all too _plausible_ spoken out loud, as wrong a perversion as it may be? And if so … what?

_The Aesir Law does not forgive._

So he huffs, tired caution limning his brows.

Thor whilst stops his quiet whimpering beside him once he finally glances up at the massacre damage he has done: The Thunderer gasps unhappily and carefully touches Loki's chin: “Oh no, oh – I didn't mean to, lo-”

 _Love_ cuts him short with a quick smile shot sideways (piercing an awkwardly itching pain through his mouth) and it warns: _Hush, oaf, don't say it_ … no need to be any _more_ provocative today.

Thor understands early enough and he is reasonable this time. The bobbing of his throat devours the telltale word and it is gone.

And no, it really shouldn't feel like such a loss. This is the price of secrecy. And secrecy is all they'll ever have.

With luck.

A rueful nod of his blond head and Thor gives one way too endearing display, though, _curse_ him. No one could possibly be mad with that big pup for all too long.

“Th' alrighd”, Loki lisps around his puffy tongue.

_I love you so._

He knows he would sigh it out loud, right now in this one of so rare, pure moments that just feel _right,_ he finally, honestly would – if not father's hands came gently down on both Thor's and his own shoulder, reminding him only more that it's not the right time for such important tenderness.

The brothers tense in faint anticipation.

“Thor,” Odin starts wholeheartedly, “you are the worst liar the universe has ever seen.”

_Of course._

Breathe out.

“I hope you never try such acts again, not even to protect the ones you call your family. You wouldn't ever win a thing from it.”

Because it's only natural _they_ are the least believable happening in all that happens to be. It is ironic, indeed it is, how the truth of all the stories is the always hardest to accept. Word-weaver's pride and liar's crown feel wise from this insight within Loki, even if wisdom tastes bittersweet as he must come to know: The relief he feels is a soft touch yet a teensy bit (and this is crazy) leaving him sad. He chuckles inwardly. It's nearly like he's disappointed!

Some of our secret dreams, alas, are just supposed to never be fulfilled. There is that yearning picture in Loki's mind out of nowhere, his brotherling and he, blissfully strolling the palace gardens, smooching their cheeks and placing kisses in the corners of their mouths and holding hands and ... for all to see … no. Only the shock of almost having been revealed makes him find that stupid wish in the most childish corner of his heart. And how he _craves_ it now, to just be free to love. Thor was mad to try make this come true. Romantic probably, but absolutely mad.

Yet whatsoever tragic _however_ , at least Hel's fateful claw leaves them alone now.

Then Loki is addressed himself.

“Loki. I fear I must apologize to you. I see now that I treated this matter with unnecessary strictness. My, that you shouldst fear I'd slaughter my own blood! Ah! You will tell your story to me, please. And I _will_ hear you out. But do not shame us with any mockery of our minds no more. It's time for us, and I mean you as much as myself, to act like adults and finally have this affair resolved.”

And taken quite off guard by this apology, a gemstone rare and unexpected from his father's mouth, Loki gulps and barely feels able to silently nod his earnest consent with his throbbing nose.

Imagine, there this war might after all still end in peace. Imagine. For all the lover siblings wouldn't ever have … _peace_ is worth a final try.

They head for a writing table. Three cushioned chairs, mahogany and purple silk, creek elegantly under the royal weight sitting down on them. Thor suppresses a tired huff and blinks his lids a few times as they somehow seem to fall sleepy now with the deadly tension gone and the early hour thereby crawling into his great body. Loki clears his throat and wipes his face with a handkerchief, dimly sorting out pompous words and redundant lots of sentences from what he means to tell, making things essential and go easy on his poor mouth. Aside from this, he's starting to tingle nervously inside.

“You took that blow quite well”, Odin randomly remarks, “I thought you'd pass out from it.”

“Dhank you.” He'd blush if he'd actually admit to himself how seriously he is flattered. A compliment on his stamina, and that from _him_ , is nothing Loki get's too often in the end.

“ … I didn't _mean_ to hurt you, though … ” Thor's so upset about it still!

“You were defending yourself, son.”

“Dhe _bethd_ of you, mind. Look, I am thorry, doo.”

Thor sighs.

“... mmmh … h'wever”, Loki ponders further on, sucking the painful gum ball in his mouth, “mh … fadher, may I athk you for a favor, pleathe?”

“Of course.”

“Would you que _sss_ dion me aboud id all and I nod yeth or no and add dhe rethd if need be? _Sssb_ eaking like dhith ith _challenging_.”

“Ah”, Odin sees, “of course! I will. Then, … let me start where I think all the confusion began. You remember what the Lady Sif reported about your journey to the vanir woods?”

Nod.

“Did that take place how she told it?”

Nod.

Odin thinks.

“Were you enchanted by the creature when you met it out there?”

Shake, _no._

“Then why did you grin all the while on your way home?”

“Well ... _gloat'hing_ ”, Loki clicks his tongue, trying to _somehow_ bring a bit more clearness into his pitiful pronunciation, “becau _s_ e _sh_ e did nod ge _t_ i _t_. N' I planned do redurn and cadshh i _t_ mythelf. Alive, though, nod dead.”

“Oh?”

_Oh?_

Is that suspicion in Odin's eye? And that already? Loki hasn't even really begun! Cocking his brows he tries to lick his swelling lips and look as innocent as just can be. His heart pounds otherwise. What luck no one can hear it.

“You wanted to tame the stag.”

Nod.

“Yet when I pressurized you with it's death … didn't your lamentations rise for what wars would be caused from that creature's departing? I don't see how killing and stealing it from the realm is so different … ?”

Uh, that is testing. Gadge doesn't miss a thing. Yet then again, who would have expected otherwise?

“I, uhmmmm … _mighd_ have lied”, Loki admits with but a teensy bit of cold sweat in his palms.

“Might?”

A nod. A frown. “ I _did_ talk aboud war. Bu _t_ I doubd i _t_ my _sss_ elf. Much more would be known of _th_ e sdag wa _s_ id really of greader impordance do Vanaheim. I jusd didn'd wan _t_ i _t_ _t_ o die. You thuddenly wanded do kill id, _t_ oo, so I dhought …”, his voice goes weak, a childish sniff trying to pull his mouth into a sorry pout, “I don'd dhink I dhoughd so wisely yethderday.”

This earns him a softening of Odin's face and a condoning smile. Loki scratches his head with the pointer of his left hand and grins a grimace under a blush that's really there now. He feels Thor's body rumble with a soft voiced giggle by his side, even though they don't even touch at all.

“So I thought, too. But you were quite convincing. I nearly believed you _did_ believe your own show.”

“Ah … “

“Why is it, though, that you have set such and endearing eye on the creature? What do you want it for?”

Loki glances at his brother and manages a halfway cunning, halfway loving smile. And the love in it suddenly isn't even any terrifying for him to show anymore. Odin would always see a _different_ kind of love between them, nothing else. And no matter what swirls of lies his story sketches, Loki realizes he can always cheat some _real_ in, too: Truths and untruths. As long as his voice has worked their spells, the Trickster means to understand the way they act together only now. To make them really blossom, entwine them, lace a breathtaking embroidery of gold and silver. Weave a fantastic tale, true where it can't be denied, altered there where it's too soft to hold, and choose your knots where they compliment the picture, keeping the whole piece from tearing and unraveling again. A stitch of fantasy, of something that has never happened, lolling in the fabric of emotions that are truly heartfelt and _would have been so._ He lets his mind just wander, find and tell. And it feels easy now, finally easier again.

“I wan _t_ ed id as a gif _t_. For dhe coronadion. Mi _ght_ y and golden. Dhad reminded me of someone.”

Thor's lips part as if to mouth something. Ah, my, he's actually moved! Loki wonders with a twinkle in his eyes if his favorite brute really believes that pretty fairy tale – or if he's smart enough to taste the hidden affection _inside_ of it. However, partly it is true, isn't it? Not that cheese with the gift, a stag in twinkling wrapping paper and such. But that he later _did_ associate the creature with his brother. And that he loves it since.

“I _t_ wouldn'd have been a very good omen for a king _t_ o have such a symbol of himself given _dead_ , however.”

That being said because _stupid Sif_. Not that anyone gets the reference in this room. She didn't quite tell anyone but Loki why she hunted the animal altogether. Kinda felt good nonetheless. And as Odin seems convinced by this explanation for at least one point on his long suspicion list Loki cannot be any more proud of himself.

“I see,” Odin sighs then, “now tell me, did your disappearance, weeks after that incident, have anything to do with this?”

Nod.

“You returned to Vanaheim for the stag?”

Nod.

“Why only then? Why not right away?”

“Oh … I _t'hh_ ried _t_ o, earlier. Bu _t_ I didn'd wand do go acrothh dhe Bifrosd. 'd leaves dhad va _hst_ and heavy mark of energy wherever id landth you, doedn'd i _t_? I men _t_ -o thneak on dhe _st_ ag compledely unno _t_ ithed. _S_ o I mean _t-_ o find … ahm”, here he gulps hard, not just from struggle or for show but also because his heartbeats suddenly mean to be allowed to ravage the cage of his breast somehow; this next morsel about to fall would be a little bigger for Odin to swallow, “ _t_ o find _anodher_ way.”

The Alfather frowns. Loki clears his throat. And Thor sits listening attentively, too, as he hasn't yet heard much of this either. Maybe he even believes to finally get something out of it for himself, is he still not aware of how his brother technically _disappeared_ at all.

Maybe Loki would tell him one day. _I didn't go anywhere, fool. I was invisible. I was with you. I was in love, that's where I've been._

But again, for now there are more pushing conversations to be made: Odin is waiting.

Loki takes a deep breath and releases it again with a vulnerable sigh.

“I found a way _t_ o”, pause, the next word is quite tricky, “ _tr_ avel dhe void. _T'h_ ook some - _t_ ime for me do find oud and dhen for dhe spell do work a _t_ all. I was in dhe library, looking up if I had done somedhing wrong, when I wa _shh_ pulled in. D'was all blurry dhen. I don' _t_ recall how I fell ou _t_ indo Vanaheim la _t_ er, alas, d' be honesd. _Th_ ad spell, I fear, wa _s_ ah- _t_ oo much for me do handle.”

The silence that follows this false yet so candidly spoken confession is terrible. So much that Loki's really scared again. His stomach's light and furry on the inside and tumbling as he clamps his hands on his knees into weak, shaking fists. And the blood in mouth tastes _too much_ at once.

_If this goes wrong ...if he won't take the bait …it is my final straw._

Nothing could make him study father's face for possible reactions now, though. He rather fixes his eyes, growing suddenly so tired, too, like Thor's have earlier, on the smooth, wooden surface the table separates them from each other with, the old and the young man, like time spread out between the generations - much more, it seems, than the board is actually wide.

“It was blurry, you say. In the void. Like … cold, distant … and strange?”

 _Yes._ Nod. Loki clasps his lids shut. The Nine, the Nine be blessed, Odin puts the pieces to a whole just as he's meant to! _He eats it out of my hand._

“This is why not Heimdall even could find you. I see it now. And your exhaustion afterwards … and your confusion, too.” Odin sighs soundlessly and rubs his face with a slow movement, breathing some ins and outs again.

Loki in turn gags on tears now welling in his eyes because he's just so _thankful_ for it all. It's finally, finally working good for him! And even Thor: he wants to grab his hand, the sentimental bull, he wants to _desperately,_ Loki can see it in the corner of his eyes. But he behaves and doesn't reach out. It's not what brothers do, is it? No normal brothers and not under their father's eye/s. And this responsible restrain is so much more than a squeezed hand could be. That makes it spill; Loki sobs. But he swallows himself back into composure soon enough.

Odin breathes slowly on, letting Loki recover from his short but sudden crying, as he himself is still considering what's been said and, most of all, suggested. But he is gentle as he eventually asks: “The bruises, Loki, I _must_ know. Can it really be they've never been? They've been a product of the intact cradles? And is it really just as simple as the healers say when they tell me that the fire must have lit itself between old clockworks of magic? You didn't scheme on this? Be faithful, son, if our bond is any holy to you still.”

And faithful Loki is. Not faithful to the truth. Faithful to Thor, himself and all the kisses they would hide from the world.

“I don'd know anydhing of bruithe _sss,_ or of fires. Dhad's jusd my bad luck once again making me look the worsd I ever could.”

For there he's starting to breathe fitfully again, struggling new sobs, finally Thor can't hold himself completely back anymore. If not with touches, though, he seems to at least want to comfort his darling with taking part in the conversation as well. Thank Yggdrasil he is much wiser this time than he was with his glorious taking a literal _stand_ earlier.

So grunting the Thunderprince sits up in his chair all fussed: “I don't see how my brother should have made that work _at all,_ burning a room that's locked, and _all_ on his own”, what does indeed hint a bit too much at the fact that Loki _did_ have company, but nevermind now, “Loki is a lamb in the woods without his magics!”

Odin merely absentmindedly replies: “Not completely locked, my son; the windows. A proper climb would have brought a mere mortal into the halls … “

“Weh, Loki sucks at climbing, father”, Thor points out.

“Indeed, I do.” Sniff, gulp, toot-toot.

And there … there! Is that a smile tugging at Odin's lips again?

Swamped by the thought of the whole thing just coming to a chatty end – _my, can it be?_ \- and embarrassed, of course, Loki directly busies himself with wrapping the red blotched hanky back around his – _ouch!_ \- and flinches at the pain coming from the so swift touch.

The Allfather chuckles then as he finally seems to recognize the pale lad with his broken nose as the benign son he has known for so many, many years now. “I'll admit I might not have taken this into consideration when the drastic events had my worries lit aflame.” Loki climbing up a building – is there anything less possible, really?

“And anyway, father, I didn't leave his side all night, so.” Thor's chest is swelling proudly to that. He shoots Loki a meaningful smile. One Loki wants _so bad_ to return with his bloated lips under his dripping nostrils. The tounge-ball is bouncing a little behind his pulsating teeth, awkwardly rocking in the sound of a shy laughter. Dear, it's all so _painful_ suddenly, just everything, his whole damn face! He giggles on.

But yet again our poor Trickster's not meant to peacefully heave a sigh of relief.

“There is but one question left unanswered to me,” is what Odin puts weightily into the room.

Face frozen at once Loki glances up, finding Odin's eye which has grown serious again within what must have been less than a fraction of time, and Hel say why his lungs already know to bate his breath from its gaze still after all.

_It's not over._

He pales even more.

_Can't it just please be over, please?_

Thor tenses in his chair. A terrible moment long Loki's heart skips out. Father sits silent, shoulders heaving with what could have been a groan if there was any sound to it.

“Tell me now, Loki: why did you lie to me?”

_Lie._

_You lied._

_I don't believe a word you say._

That's what he said.

_No, it cannot BE! Not again, NO!_

“Why”, Loki hiccoughs, “why - I dhought, I _th_ ought you _tr_ usd my words, - my _t_ ale is reasonable!”

Aghast he directly jitters and sees the dungeons with his mind's eye -

… but then there comes a frown meeting his own frightful grimace: “Methinks you do not understand. Why didn't you just tell me earlier?”

As Odin seems to still be assuming Loki never lacked his memories, at least not when they dined – what's fine, what's not so important as long as the rest of the story, well. Well.

Ouch.

After some dry gulps which the young prince mistook for breaths he puffs a windless: “Oh.”

What his father asks to know now, however, in fact asks to know a much more intimate thing between them: _Why don't you trust me?_

It isn't Odin's trust in question, it is Loki's.

So much blunt openness is more, too much more, than anything a son of the great Allfather should ever expect to be faced with by that regal man who raised them with a scepter rather than a loving hand. This is so simple and so _family_ that it knocks Loki from sheer panic into perfect helplessness (that damned old friend). What's he supposed to do now, get emotional? And _really_ at it, not just sniffing from some fear-of-death stress overload symptoms?

How uncomfortable. An unknown field of mines. That's what this is, isn't it?

“I, was, selfishhh”, Loki tries out all monotone after another awkward silence, better keeping to his story than to spontaneous outbursts of revealing his heart, “and I didn'd wan _t-_ o lose my magics for dhis mess. Bu _t_ \- I _need_ my magics. I _am_ my magics. I'm nodhing good withoud, and”, that just doesn't want to sound as sweeping as he feels it should, and _that_ suddenly leaves poor Loki feeling incredibly ridiculous in his own mind and skin, so utterly ridiculous as he must always seem to all the others – _as if I was actually EVER any good, with or without pathetic tricks_ – and so, aggrieved by his own wretchedness, he abruptly gives up on portraying himself as the bereaved victim he _still feels the right to be_ and which has somehow always meant more to him that he'd like to confess, “bu _t_ – no, no matter. I know 'd better now, d'was my own faul _t_. And _th_ en again id's no big deal.”

He could have dug himself a hole in Hel's mud for that last part trying SO HARD to give _no absolutely mature shit_ and for how he fingers the bracelet, betraying himself, and how his whiny voice cracked under the final sentence. He's just a whole lot mess of _pathetic_ , honestly.

It's just … it's just as if, all suddenly, he was _important_. To _him_.

The one-eyed slowly nods his head. Loki can barely breathe without tingling at having not only won his fathers trust but also his heart back in the end. He cannot really grasp it anyhow. What is he now to _do_ with them?

Then it happens all so suddenly. Odin stands up. He's beside his son and reaching for his wrist. To grimly rip the bracelet apart, freeing the mystic powers locked inside.

Loki gasps and throws his head back in a blissfully disturbing shock as he feels all his nature racing finally untamed again through his veins like wild horses from a cage into the open, just as it should be. A glimmering cloud of malachite shades powders around his body, and the fraction of a heartbeat long he glimpses Thor, impressed enough by his magical sight to make Loki blush and fever with a sudden heat steaming withing.

But as he manages to catch himself again, panting, dissolving the green shimmer slowly, Loki still cannot be happy. Instead an iron frown drills his face as something echoes in that hollow where he thought to have embraced his father's love only moments ago.

_I don't understand._

Why did Odin do that? Why rip the safety belt from his son's magics now that he finally means to know it was _them_ that almost killed him?

“ … I could do such dhings again,” Loki breathes as his eyes lie fixed upon the leftover links of the fragile silver chain in his hand, the others having sprung to every corner of the room.

“Yes”, is the answer.

“And I could … die.”

“Yes.”

Oh bitter disappointment. Oh dear old pain.

_How could I be so blind? Nothing has changed. Nothing will ever change._

“You don'd care.” Loki stands up, defeated, and even though he won more in this nasty game than he even intended to he can't remember having lost _so much_ before in his entire life. It's like his legs are thin and growing long and longer, falling away under him with the ground.

“ _Loki_ ”, that's Thor beside him, looking up now, tugging at his sleeve to somehow bring him consolation probably, Thor, Loki's brother, whom he loves and whom he cannot simply _love_ and whom he used to _hate_ so much once, foul with jealousy – and all because of one damned man!

“Why do you _HATE_ me so”, he suddenly bawls out, his breath shaken by all the tears the boy he was back then has never wept, “I'm _th_ orry I'm nod Dhor, I know I'm no _t_ making you proud bu _t_ , – id can'd be helped! I know I'll never make i _t,_ bu _t_ I always _tr_ y! Does dhad mean nodhing do you? How dare you even think I'd make a pact widh Asgard's deadly enemy _t_ o bring id down – dhis is MY HOME as well, you had no RIGH _T_ nor reason ascribing me being as vile as do desdroy i _t_! And whad-is this now – you find I nearly drowned mythelf in _th_ e void and dhe first you do is enabling me _t_ o do i _t_ _again_? If you wan- _t_ o ged rid of me SO bad why didn'd you juss' throw me off the Bifrosd years ago, you had so many chances _t_ o, they would have thoughd the boy just slipped, that puny child who can'd se _t_ one _boot_ next the other withoud thdumbling - ”

Thor's on his feet, grasping Loki's shoulders: “Brother, ... “, but Loki's like a snarling beast in his grip, spitting venom at their father from his eyes. As two hands more, two old and hostile hands, come holding him in place, cupping his yaw, he wants to bash them off. But Thor is swift at catching his elbows. Green fizzles sparks from Loki's clawed fingers as he moans grief – anger - stricken, and the same green blurs his sight as even his _tears_ must be glowing with that snakish, stealthy might finally crawling under his skin again. But no illusion, not a pretty trick would make things any better for him now. So Loki lets go of the tension in his fey blood and feels all enchanting emerald glows pearl off his aura like trailing smoke. With a teardrowned groan he lets father cup his face even harder.

This sentimental madness is just so _not_ him, it is abasing. He's doing this too often, way too often now. Where is his silvertongue? Why is it spitting out everything he's always been terminally ashamed of? Didn't he train himself to perfection priding all these shames away? He coughs harshly as some swallowed whimpers mean to suffocate him.

“Listen”, the old man dares to say then, “Loki. One day I will explain what made me think such horrid thoughts of you latewards. But now is not the day. I hope that you will understand when once the time is there. Do only know for the moment being: You are the weaker one of two. Alas, no battle and no enemy that Thor will ever face out there can be as dangerous as some doors of the secret arts which you possess the key to open. If you got lost in their dark labyrinths we wouldn't even meet again in far Valhalla. You can not only die there, you can cease to be. And with a might a kind and danger as this yours it's more important that not I but _you_ should care. You'd make me proud if from now on you did. Yet how _can_ you for something locked away and taken care of in your stead by chains?”

Sobbing convulsively the young prince doesn't understand: was he just blamed or praised or both? Or none? Or were his own words turned against himself once more? He doesn't know, he doesn't understand, but Loki knows Thor's hands around his elbows and he knows his fathers palms against his face and, from a far, far distant time, he even knows that rough, old thumb wiping his cheek dry. Loki _wants_ somewhere between those painful ulcers of defiance to see that he is earnestly being found capable of handling these dangers greater even than those crushed by Thor, he _wants_ to understand father deems him, _him_ , really worth his trust, he _wants_ to … so, so bad.

He doesn't know how to believe it, though.

But Loki well knows how to tackle that cursed doter there in front of him with the hardest hug he's ever run into his father with, knows how to cling to the stumbling old man and press him as fiercely as to hopefully throttle the breath in his lungs so his ears start to ring and he won't hear too much of his adult son's bawling at his neck.

Because there is that pool, having filled up over eternities, drop by drop and drop, silently … and having grown into a flood it just demands to be wept empty at long last.

In the end it is a beautiful thing to receive if only appreciated well: Not being kept alive but being freed to live. The highest gift a child can hope to receive. Notwithstanding it is given to our Trickster for but a lie - as it will always be with Loki.

The void, pshaw! As if he'd actually be able to ride that primal beast at all.

 

*

*

*

 

Once the trickster godling feels able to breathe again he finds himself in a perfectly awkward family sandwich, Odin in front of him, Thor hugging his back, one head snuggling into each of his shoulders.

He doesn't really plan on turning invisible, but well, as it just works again and there's no thing he suddenly yearns to more (alright, not _that_ suddenly, only after some secret moments of indulging in the cuddle) Loki voids, jostles, crouches and goes walkabout, melting out of the embrace and taking some comfortable distance before shooting the colors back into his form as Thor and Odin bump with grunts of surprise and clonks of hollow nuts into each other.

Yes. It's alright to laugh no– _ouch! AH-Ouch_ , alright, that grin was broader than t'was Loki's poor mouth any good. But anything is good enough now to distract him from the ridicule of that sloppy touchy feely orgy – because this is NOT how Loki fares. As healing as it might have been. Just no.

Speaking of healing. He concentrates. Making his breaks and bruises believe they can mend, quickly like a creek flows, his body trows the tale: And yes, oh, _yes_ , there is that arcane _titillating_ back for him once more! And powerful it is, his magics seeming to have been stowed behind the bracelet growing undreamt flowers of spells now! With a mew caught in the throat Loki exults – in possibly less than half a day he'll sniff Asgard's air like a newborn babe again!

Thor rubs his chin meanwhile, Odin his forehead, as both, after some perplexed glances to and fro, expectantly stand watching Loki suck his lip and bliss his brows up towerlike.

He blinks then. And they blink back.

It's time, the act is through. He should leave the stage. They all should, lest they'd tangle themselves up in the closing curtains.

“ _Mmmmh, ..._ _th_ o”, the rascal mumbles then, “I am dhankful for having been heard. I am _th_ orry for having been weird. I am nearly _s_ dar _t_ ing _t_ o rhyme righd now, _s_ o I gue _sss_ a _s_ long a _s_ you don'd feel dhe need-o add anything more, fadher, we're done and forgiven, and I'd radher leave and ne'er talk aboud whad ju _ss_ happened e'er again. Yeth?”

Odin takes his time spreading a big, big smile on his face – nearly as sunny as that of Thor.

“Back to your old mischievous ways, I see. And yes, we _are_ forgiven, son.”

“Good, good. Ahm”, _good Norns, finall GOOD indeed_ , Loki thinks and picks his fingernails, _no, I refuse to get all smarmy again, but,_ “one dhing, though: Please don'dhh … _t_ elll … mother.”

“Mh?”

“Uhm, thad I … cried. In your armth? She'll _pamper_ me again. Like I'm a fragile egg.”

“Ah,” Thor puffs a harsh laugh out, teasing, “now say you never enjoyed mommy's special treatment!”

Viper-quickly Loki gasps: _Bastard, you didn't._ “ _Quite so_ when I wa _s_ _six_ 'n had a mon _thd_ er bump on my head from your Mjolnir _tr_ aining!”

“You nose is a bump right now.”

“And I am like _six_ hundred aeons _older_ _d_ _h_ an _th_ ix!”

Like a shield between the brothers' already combating gazes shoves the Allfather's hand as he sighs, now all his regal self once more: “My boys, you shall discuss that out somewhere else. I fear now in possession of all facts I'll have to think of something to feed to our people, starving by now to know what is true. You shall have your dignity, Loki, but even if not every detail of our conversation I still beg you please to go and tell your mother that it's peace again sealing our family. She will be joyful to find out. And as that nose bump of yours indeed you should be taking to where the healers are residing with the injured of the fires - there you will find her, too.”

_Oh yes, exactly! She'll want to know!_

Fondness warms Loki through and makes him fluttery as his thoughts at once travel with devotion to his mother. How could he even for a moment forget about her sorrow at all? He's directly eager to just ease her worried heart. Because how many hurtful times already has he put her through by now? This could somehow make at least a little up for everything. He cannot wait to see her smile again. She so deserves to.

“Gladly”, he says and bows. His pulse is running faster, just as fast as his feet want to run him forth to her.

“I'll come, too, I want to see Fandral. He's said to have been round the place when all went flame and boom.”

Thor's at Loki's side then with two purposeful strides, chuckling, easy minded, pleasure dripping force, _Thor_ , just himself, and _gods_ he smells so good as he happily pats Loki's shoulder, squeezing, shaking it with what acts cozy brotherhood, what secretly yet means so much, much more. Loki gently has to catch his breath from the floating feeling in his belly – this must be euphoria – and it cannot be good – everything's finally _good!_

He cannot keep his fingers from shooting forth and playfully pinching Thor's side (right down his undermost rip) where he knows the big blond whelp is ticklish like nowhere else. Thor jerks with a short cackle, making Loki smi – _ouch_ , ah well, grimace and shake his head and giggle, too.

 _I love your hands_ , he swoons inside. That grip, the firmness of that molded arm as it connects them like a bridge. _I love your voice._ The rumble in his throat. _I love your smell._ The golden strands of hair lazily trailing their free waves down from his crest.

_I'll go see mother. I'll make her happy once again. And then I'll tell you what I should have told a thousand times before._

Dreaming like this Loki rather swans than walks towards the doors. The prickle in his nose and mouth sounds much like tiny, busy bits of quartz (to him) and even puffs a little greenish glow from his whole face, frisky and loose as his magics toy around after their captivity. And Thor won't stray even a step out of his aura.

 _It's still so dark,_ Loki muses on then with a last glance at Odin's windows. Stars and cosmic nebulas adorn the sky. Morn still is far. That fateful morning they survived before it even has begun. Now it is waiting, so it seems, to bring to life some _new_ life full of joy. And Loki suddenly wants nothing but to greet the coming sun in Thor's arms. In Thor's lap. In Thor's lips. That's when he smirks … because he _will_.

Odin, however, looks up one final time before his sons can leave the room. From behind the desk where he's about to sit again, fishing for parchment and ink already, he says: “Ah, Thor. Wait. I will have word with you on the crown, tomorrow eve, if you don't mind.”

 _Oh._ Like slapped Loki shrinks out of his fantastic pleasance. But yes, it's only logical. The crown initially was Thor denied but for the thought of Sif, his queen-to-be, having been complicit in Loki's disappearance, having led him to the _dangers_ of the Golden Stag. Now that this is no matter anymore, as is the jotun monomania no longer a concern pushing any other things out of the light of importance, there's nothing greater standing in the crown heir's way. Nothing to shield him from his duty.

Thor's body freezes for but a fraction, yet enough for Loki to feel. He doesn't miss his brother's gulp.

“Father”, says Thor and bows a prim farewell.

As the great main gate pounds shut behind them the princes of Asgard are left alone in the monolithic palace corridors safe the silent guards which they swiftly and not with a glance outdistance. There are no domestics nor any other folk around this royal wing of the building at this time, all seems to have busily swarmed to the scene of the nightly fires, mothlike.

Indeed, Loki and Thor are on their own. But neither of them speaks for a while, their footfalls only to be heard.

Loki swallows heavily, brooding Thor beside him seeming to have grown both ways ages older and small again from sudden, newborn, well-known worry.

So shall _this_ be their next, their final problem, that to bring them down at last: King Thor?

No. No! They have not made it this far just to fail because of formalities. A throne to be roosted, a fright to be overcome. A petty kingdom to be ruled, oh BAH, no more but that! It is the same story that brought the two together anyhow, it wouldn't now eventually tear them apart. Loki can _help_ his brother once the time it up, he can and he will. And not even a queen will stand between them. No. Thor'd warm her bed for duty and for heirs alone. And only after he had lain in _their_ bed. Always.

Of course Loki is not crestfallen by the vision fading, the lovely, fanciful anticipation of them snuggling together all nights eternity may birth and waking to the smell of each others skin, warm still from sleep and dreaming. Of course he's _not_ feeling like that sore clump behind his ribs can take no more too heavy, more too woeful throbs, no, _no_ , because Loki has always been a realistic person. Not a dreamer. No.

They'd _have_ their moments, plenty of them, however brief and hidden between duties and etiquette. Just like they always had since they do what they do. Maybe sometimes they could even steal themselves together in eve's purplish and concealing shades. And maybe sometimes Thor could even stay til dawn. No one would know.

The last days spent together were a privilege. Loki perceives them as such only now. It's just a shame, he thinks ruefully, that they fought so much! The time given should have been soaked with bliss to the last bit. But, oh alas, it wouldn't be _them_ if they had managed such a heaven on earth. And it is not like they will never meet again: It's just the price of secrecy they'll have to pay.

This future 'bout to be their present life, it _can_ be done. It will.

_Because I love you._

Thor's voice, as he finally finds enough courage to speak, is soft and nearly shy: “Say ... does it hurt very much ... _love_?” And with that final whisper breathed he even dares caress the side of Loki's hand with his pinkie, pleading for some comfort.

Ah, Thor is breaking Loki's heart: When before has the Thunderer been so in need and so  _aware_ of it? When has he ever been so _cute?_

For an answer thusly the Trickster just decides to tease. To help his brother heave a lighter breath within what weighs him down again. What brought him down to Loki's lap … yes, when their story just began.

_So, if my friggin balloon nose hurts, this is what you're asking me?_

“My, ye _th!_  I'd _th_ ay _th_ o, ye _th_.” He toots a sound like a drunk pigeon and blinks an eye, making sure the fun in it twinkles all through his words.

“But you're healing, glowworm, are you?”

 _Yes._ Loki smirks into his nod, twinkling even a bit greener.

Thor huffs out, the whole world burdening him, it seems. Yet still he only cares for this: “You _know_ that I am sorry?”

 _My_ … _yes, you fool,_ grabs Loki then into his mighty, shaking hand. Out of jokes now, out of words. Daring only a heartbeat of what freedom can't be theirs into reality. And for three beautiful steps Thor and Loki walk the open palace holding hands.

_I should say it now … I should … I could ..._

“You sound so _cute_ like that, though”, Thor however rounds the moment off, grinning and knowing not what's stuck in Loki's throat - or knowing possibly all he needs to know.

“Ha-ha, funny. And now _thh_ ee do ged me _th_ ome Cowad' _th_ Brew.”

 


	34. Interlude

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> To let you know I am not dead.

 

 

 

Loki sometime meant that if you keep a big pet creature you must see to it physically working to capacity in order to have it hale and hearty. An innocent statement, that. At least if not for the given circumstances.

Thor caught on his breath in his post orgasmic shudder as the word _pet_ hit him without warning. He felt both disbelief and that possessiveness, so different to his usual one, swell up inside him, rousing enough to lace delicate, hissing flashes around his temples. He threw a glance, heavy with sated lust, down his panting chest to where his brother knelt between his thighs, milk white against him. There were _real_ flashes around Thor's head, a crown of them, and Mjolnir hummed on the floor beside them.

Because owners and pets. And don't pets feel like they own their owners, too?

Thor's mind spun as he couldn't figure out if he had ever really been the one _having_ rather than somehow always being had. Loki'd sing-songed that remark so cheekily, mind, after he'd just sucked Thor off (a beautific surprise indeed ... his-, _reward_ , how Loki would call it, for Thor having been good in their earlier politics tutoring), just like, well, _so_. So by the way. After casually licking his creamy lips as the large, wobbly mushroom head plopped from his mouth, his hand, curled around the base, flapping Thor's soft, spent, but still twitching cock to and fro, examining if it's in good shape. All worked out. Hale and hearty.

Such gorgeous hubris is a master's trait.

Maybe Thor'd always been a big, demanding pet creature which strayed to Loki and overwhelmed him greatly first, but which, now he'd decided to keep it, could be trained and bonded with for life.

Thor grinned at that thought. He loved it, oh he did. Wanted to be Loki's faithful, demanding, toe kissing _only_ , defending his master against any rivals and owning _him_ again through this.

As his blood boiled in a rush down to his giant size once more he growled deep in his throat. The thick vein on his underside pounded into his brother's palm. Loki cocked an appreciative brow. _Good shape indeed,_ Thor thought that little smirker thought.

Who would undoubtedly have praised the throbbing mass finding new solidness so quickly between his ever playing, gentle fingers – had not his big pet creature decided to overwhelm him once again and hurled him by the shoulders on his back into their bed.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The end is coming for us, dear last ones still reading.  
> I am writing on it.


	35. 'Because I love you' 1/7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> OKAY SHIT initially I wanted to blast you into a wall with the whole thing at once BUT! our Grand Finale will be consistent of 7 sections AND HERE IS THE FIRST I CAN'T KEEP IT FROM YOU, too impatient. 6 more to come. Count. Down. Ladies. And Gents. Perhaps. Are there Gents? I think I never talked to a Gent in the comments lol.

 

 

 

"I'll have you know", Fandral chatters as he strolls on deeper still into the woods behind Loki, "that you owe me _two_ favors now."

“Ah, do I?”

Loki grins to himself as he keeps on leading the way. His boots are pillowed softly by the earthen ground covered with herbs and forest leaves and fir needles and young, still giving roots. The older ones between make natural stairs for the two stalking men's steps, though they could well lose their way if they strolled through the undergrowth witlessly. Fandral may be a warrior and hunter even, but he'd be perfectly lost by now if not for Loki chasing after all these wild and cheeky magics pearling through the trees; he feels their singing with his eyes and sees the path which they flow down through ticklish elven laughter as it prickles in his soles.

Vanaheim lures him to find that clearing one more time. The third time, that is, Loki muses. Which must mean a good.

Fandral nods with stagy thoughtfulness as Loki glances over his shoulder and grins; he knows there'll be something now. Their conversations always go this way. It's funny, really.

“Yeh, indeed you do, mister! Still didn't quite repay me for the time you grilled me anyway, and here I am again, backing your little stories up so you can do whatever silly mischief you are up to. Mind that I had blisters on my buttocks - “

“Yes, and Coward's Brew on them.”

“ - AND a diaper on top of all. A diaper! You fuckin' grilled me!”

Loki stopped counting how many times the beard boob already indulged in this exact phrase. He's way too proud of it is he.

“I _did_ offer you to enchant that one lady who ditched you for Volstagg, though. She'd really think you're him!”

Loki walks backwards now, facing Fandral and letting the magic stream tug at his spine with all its tiny, playful hands, while his arms fan out wide like wings and his brows rise to full dramatics, underlining well the vastness of his generosity.

Fandral purses his lips, pondering: “Mhhhh … ….... … nnnaaaaaaah, I'm over _that_ already.” Then he peers up into the glimmering of tiny sunflakes which are dancing overhead in the leaves as he twirls his moustache. “I want something bombastic a repayment for my efforts, please!”

Loki can't but shake his head and chuckle as he moves on forward again: "Which might be?” Ahead he can already see the light bleeding through the tree trunks: They are nearly there. “A fine, new spying glass? A spell enhancing it to make you see around corners perhaps?”

That friggin' idiot could like that. They grew close enough lately for Loki to know. However _that_ took place. He chuckles again. Is this what friendship feels like?

“Not all bad, this idea. Though my two extra eyes are sharp enough and I have spying places lots and lots that made me see quite every corner of the realm already. Tits and arses galore, and exquisite ones, too, be told ... but I know what I _haven't_ seen yet. I am a collector of the finest, you might know."

“Indeed I know.” _Unfortunately._

“So there. I see you understand!”

“Eh … not quite, you just make a wish I guess.”

“Or two. Remember that it's _two_ now.”

Loki rolls his eyes and laughs. “Urda forbid you'll do me a third favor then … ” He'd end up as a Genie to the pork in the end.

But then mid-thought Loki's heart already jumps and clenches with sudden emotion as he steps out into the open clearing: A wash of _home_ caresses him. The place is beautiful. Again.

“Aaaaah”, makes Fandral next to him, sucking in the sight. At this time of the year the forest meadow is touching their hips and pulsating ripe with unnamed flowers radiating pure white light: It soars in soft flakes up towards the clouds, making it seem as if this fragrant, warm summer eve has it snowing in reverse.

The coldness of the world, borders, impossibilities, it all seems to end in this place.

Having a little house here, nothing all too huge, Loki knows he would be happy. There'd only need to be one certain big blond brother around to complete the picture.

A shame he couldn't take Thor on the trip today. But Loki is here for a secret purpose. And he doesn't want to spoil the surprise.

He claps his hands, the sound of it plucking him out of this sweetest sway his mind wants to loll in for forever. No, he _is_ here for a purpose. Get it on with, Loki!

“So”, he sighs refreshedly, “now it's your turn. Tell me which of these trees exactly it was that you found us leaning against.”

As while Loki did lean on wanted tree, try as he may, he can't possibly know which it was as he was blindly shoved against it, stumbling backwards. He means to retrieve a branch from it, however, carve it into a flute and work a spell on it so that its player would hear a secret message no one else could tell from the melody.

Telling things Loki cannot _say_.

A sheer symbol of a coronation gift. He's rarely been this proud of an idea. Out of question that it must be none but _the_ tree, goes without saying.

However, Fandral's spluttering kind of pulls him from the lofty mood: “Sneaky wizard cannot smell it, eh? I thought there would be some kind of magical Echo Of The Snog burned into the thing forever. Judging by how you were getting _on_ on it I mean.”

Loki cocks his brows, throwing a pointedly long glare down his nose.

“Was really _hot_ I mean.”

What was that again about the thing Fandral _hasn't_ yet seen?

_Oh, you would not DARE, you ..._

“I'm just sayin'”, the cockatoo shrugs suggestively.

No way will he ever be allowed to watch them really _getting hot_ , though.

“Uh huh”, makes Loki through his nostrils, giving the sound something really royally disapproving. While he sucks his cheek to keep from grinning at the monumental cringe he's giving the poor perv.

Meanwhile Fan coughs, shields his eyes with the palm of his hand and scans the edge of the clearing as if he _wasn't_ shitting himself over Thor beating him up because he upset his favorite darling brother.

“Ah! That imposing one right there”, he points with his finger as they start slowly wading through the sea of grass whispering around their thighs.

Loki bites his lips excitedly the closer they get. Vanaheim's whole atmosphere, adorned with history dear to him now, just makes him all too feelsy.

Once they're standing in front of the tree, yes, Loki _does_ recognize it; the smell, the bark under his fingers. The memory of their first real kiss indeed lingering softly in it's core like the purr of a heartbeat only. Heat colors his cheeks rosy and he cracks a gentle smile.

And then his eyes fixate on the leaves.

“It's an … oak tree”, he awes at length, breath caught in his throat and not getting out. “An _oak tree,_ I ...”

Fandral glances at him, frowning: “Yeah? So is that a bad thing or - ?”

“No, goodness, it's not bad, no!” Loki shakes his head in disbelief and puts his forehead against the bark. Dear Nine, he's blushing like a little girl.

“Okay, so _what_?”

“Nothing really.”

“Come now, spit it out!”

“No, it's stupid”, he giggles.

Fandral gapes and inflates his chest: “I nail you down on one of my two wishes then, you friggin' SAY it now!”

Loki sighs, grinning even in the eye of his defeat. Not that he couldn't lie. But he doesn't even really want to. The whole thing is just priceless.

Glancing at the other, noticing how the tips of his beard quiver with anticipation, he gives in. As he opens his mouth to speak Loki notes that indeed, this _is_ what friendship must feel like.

“Have you ever read a book ab- “

“Haven't.”

“Yes, yes. Silly me.”

“But?!”

“Ehrm … well, so in the days the mortals appeared to worship the oak as a holy tree. They called it the _Bride Of Thor_.”

…

“I'm not gonna sew your wedding dress.”

The woods of Vanaheim might not ever have resounded with laughter like that before.

 


	36. 'Because I love you' 2/7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Fresh from the oven, unbetad and sweltering hot. It's Thor POV time. Which we all know by now means sex <3 
> 
> Countdown still working: FIVE chapters to come! We're getting there, ladies, we are!

 

 

 

 

It's been an irksome mess of chaotic weeks by now, feeling both like countless years squeezed into an insane circle biting its own tail and at the same time like less even than a handful of heartbeats at all, but the most powerful ones, such to mark a life for good long really. But somehow said chaos was also, and quite unexpectedly so, sheer heaven pulled to earth by the greedy, happy fists of two decent young princes living and _playing_ in the royal palace of golden Asgard.

But to the joys of it all later.

No, Thor is not yet king. But he is meant to be. Odin is determined (with or without proper bride, that is). Which means councils, councils and more, yes, _councils_ for Thor. More than ever before in his life. The poor Thunder God feels like his arse is carving into a new kind of flat from sitting all these politics and publicity work through. If ever he felt terrified of having to keep up with this particular kind of everyday king-in-the-making fuss, well, _did_ he have no clue, did he! The world's a blur around him now, spinning, spinning endlessly. Alas, at least the speed of things appears to be so high he doesn't ever really get the chance to mess up and embarrass himself, his father, _his_ fathers and a whole race of proud and noble warrior gods. Things somehow run themselves for now. Thor gulps and smiles and nods and sometimes stutters his way though it all, the throne an ever staying thorn gleaming in the corner of his eyes.

The problem here, however, and most of all the problem with Odin NOT TAKING PROPER NOTICE is this: The Alfather actually thinks his eldest son just has the jitters now that things are getting really serious. He blames Thor's awkwardness on jitters. Like really. Didn't he notice before? Or did Thor just act that casually smug all the times he just and plain said nothing and stupidly grinned at the realm's alliance ambassadors all these years?

He probably thought Thor the absolute boss.

However, now with the _jitters_ going on Odin pats his son's broad shoulder empathetically each time they find some private in-between somewhere between the sheer number of meetings. Odin sighs while doing so. He smiles. And means, _I know you can do it, son. You know it, too._

Indeed.

But then, and this is where the joy begins, there's Loki.

Whenever Thor catches a glimpse out from the inside of this only tornado which he cannot command it is Loki's gently smiling face, always having a knowing edge to it, which makes the Thunderer halt and take a deeper breath again. It is Loki who secretly lectures him on Asgard's many partners (Thor can even name them now, and no, he _couldn't_ not so long ago), on their functions, their relations, their profits, their demands. It is Loki, too, who patiently, lovingly, mockingly tries to make Thor's dull warrior mind understand the arts of political cunning, if not to use then at least to detect and not fall for it.

And it is Loki who kisses him like there is no tomorrow and it couldn't matter any less.

He is a gift from heaven is he.

The easiness with which Odin accepted Thor's sheepish request to keep on sharing rooms with his brother for the moment was a trip, by the way. Father simply said yes and wouldn't see anything wrong with that. Not that his two grown sons would be doing anything wrong – like sleeping in one rather than separate beds. Sleeping and such. Naked and such.

Nah, he actually found it a splendid idea: This way Thor could have an eye on his instable brother's recovery and Loki in turn would have a mild but hopefully annoying enough punishment for causing the family and the whole realm such troubles late off. Also the people would surely approve, he said, seeing how their future king cares for his family, which means _everyone_ by that, as a king's people _are_ his family. Thor seemed just such a mature, selfless, responsibly behaving gem of an heir, Odin beamed with pride. It was totally awkward (but oh so worth it).

Frigga's tender involvement helped here, too, as it was her who saw the sad look in Loki's eyes that night the cradles burned down, that moment they came for her to tell that everything was fine and the fighting within their family over. Loki told her everything he'd told father before. And that Thor had accidentally broken Loki's nose. And that _such_ accidents wouldn't happen again too soon as his big brother should be returning to _his_ chambers and his everything now that just did not involve a little brother at his side. Thor flinched at that. He hadn't even considered ever not sleeping in their bed again. The idea alone, it felt painfully wrong and it must have shown on his face dramatically. Frigga nudged him then to go ask father for some more time together right away, like they had shared a room when they were small: She knew her boys needed each other now. How much they did she couldn't possibly even smell, but as far as mother's instincts reach she knew.

Loki only gaped at Thor as he proudly returned and announced his formal moving in: He hadn't dared believe in it to happen one moment, the poor thing.

That first of their new nights was ecstatic.

They fell into the sheets like into wings (new sheets they brought, because didn't Thor kind of blast their old ones with a flash as Loki _kind_ of peed in them, by accident?) and those wings tangled around their frantic limbs and _clung_ , never wanting to let go again until the princes let themselves dissolve into the glorious snugness that life would be for them now. Oh they kissed, devoured and remelted their bodies until there was nothing left of them but _one_ that blazed with the stars, growled with the dark, moaned with the silence. Came with the sun. And giggled with their mouths _one mouth_ at how Fandral earlier, skin and clothes coal-black smudged, beard and hair electrified into all possible directions and actually really smoking, _really_ , had been positively well, whereas a bit appalled, when they'd checked for his health. Smelling of roasted dashing he'd all but glared at them, panting so that no one else could hear: “You. _Grilled._ Me. You know you fuckin' assholes _grilled_ me, do you?”

But he wouldn't be all too mad. Fandral is a forgiver. Loki, as he told Thor later, thought the man had never looked quite as impressive ever before.

And Thor for his part had never seen his brother as smug as when Sif decided to leave for Alfheim, to sort her thoughts out and get some distance between herself and Thor and their broken relationship. That was a teensy pang for Thor, to be honest, but not because he wanted her back. No, he felt guilty as it was _kind_ of him and his ignorance towards her, and his otherworldly possession with Loki, and the fact that he just didn't tell her that there was no place for her in his heart anymore what made them go down in the end. He did feel guilty. But she should feel so, too, he kept reminding himself. Loki never ceased to happily bitch about one particular ginger guard to help remind him. Thor pinched his cheek for it each time his tongue got rakish, having him squeak with the little pain and titter even more once being free.

As the scandalous word spread, however, that Thor and the Lady Sif had actually never been proposed to marry at all and had rather been something like buddies with sword and sheet, the whole collective of Asgard could be heard gasping out loud. Loki nearly pissed himself with laughter on the floor as Thor admitted he might just have, kind of, _forgotten_ about never having given such a promise. As things had gone so casual and so long with her it had felt like, well, the foot you're standing on, like _normal_ , but it wasn't ever meant to be a greater thing. And he'd forgotten to the point of believing - _things_. Which would fill the holes of expectations. Somehow. No one ever talked about it, though. He never did. She never did, probably not wanting to push him to make her queen. Even Odin was surprised, even Frigga. Why, everyone was!

And it was too great a deal to be concealed from the masses. Might have also been one Fandral planting the rumor seeds.

But however, as to the secret politics tutoring Thor enjoys lately, and the inevitable mischief in Loki's blood, things were _bound_ to kind of escalate sooner or later.

Like today.

As Thor is sitting on an emotional beehive rather than his chair. As dinner with Svartalfaheimr's Minister of Monstrously Major Matters of WHO cares what kind just won't, dear Norns, be over. But has to. Needs to. Must, please. Now. _Please_. Because Thor is sweating and biting his nails and coughing to cover up his random grunts, desperately trying not to let it show how terrifyingly horny he is right now with that incurable, gigantic and stone hard boner fighting to rip his solid leather pants to shreds.

Urda's Rotting Teeth, more mead. Thor needs more mead to survive. He means to feel his toes and fingers growing cold by now, so much of his blood does his cock suck from his extremities. Gulping the stuff like mad Thor wipes his dripping mouth with a trembling fist and eyes near black from the way his pupils are blown. The mere knowledge of that thin-necked vial in his breast pocket makes him want to groan and rut against the underside of the table. He's just too _big_ for his skin, all is throbbing, crawling, growing underneath. He's hot. Holy, there's FATHER sitting next to him!

How could Loki do this to him, really?

They met before the Minister arrived. Too shortly before. Mere moments only. And they hadn't met all day after breakfast. And Loki had bemoaned a serious headache for three days now. So Thor had not wanted to touch him too roughly then. They would just cuddle. For three. Days. Busy days that is. Within which he never even found the moment to just wank the pressure out like a youngster would.

“ _Your share”_ , Loki said as he showed up all of a sudden from behind Thor's back. And slipped him the vial of oil. Half empty. Thor's brain was too battered from politic talks already to process right away what might have happened to the rest of the content. And Loki smirked that his dimples showed. With a quick little swipe of his tongue to casually wet his lips. Then he tiptoed away again. Once it hit Thor like a brick and he stopped frowning at the small bottle in his hand the last he glimpsed of his brother was the striking green of his cape licking around the edge of the portal.

Thor heard the Minister's greetings like through a steaming fog when his cock gave its first disastrous twitch. He nearly didn't manage to sit down as they settled for dinner.

And now, eternities later, Thor hunches over with high-strung tension, he is embarrassed, terrified, agonized and absolutely unable to pay at least one modicum of the attention which he's supposed to muster for his guest.

Hel can't be so much different.

The Minister brings up a recurring, as he calls it, _irritant_ about something with two rivaling states and a river in Svartalfaheimr. Some silly religious fight about how one people mean to regularly cross the river in pilgrimage while the others won't let them touch the water – _holy_ water seemingly – with their dirty keels. Now these idiots are sending each other poisoned fish and birds to and fro, and people die, and people get angry because the holy water gets dirtied up and other people again get angry because holy birds get murdered. And angry as they are they're sending poisoned birds and fish to and fro all along the riversides. Odin ponders this with the perfectly distanced concern of a long practicing king. Thor manages to grunt and frown.

Such fools. Their problems he'd like to have! While he's sitting here, guts boiling out, balls swelling harder every moment, and his _cock_ , his cock is buzzing with need, _buzzing_ , why won't these idiot bastards simply build a bridge?

If only HE could have a bridge now. Ending right in Loki's effing little arse.

As the unwanted image of the rascal making good use of his own share of oil flashes up in Thor's mind like for the hundredth time already he bites his tongue to keep from whining. And he tastes blood.

_Naked Vollstag. Naked Vollstag. Naked Vollstag._

But it's hopeless. Thor doesn't even know a person as appalling as to turn him off right now. Vollstag's not that ugly really, he's just a massy type of man and no way enough contrast to shatter the shameless torture of a picture his brother must have been, rolling late in the day in their sheets, thrusting oil wet fingers into himself, preparing his tight sweet hole for Thor's dearly awaited return, maybe touching himself after three days of moods, kneading, rubbing, _tugging_ at Thor's favorite suck, oh his skin almost white as his milk splashing in pearly ropes onto his tensing, his working belly, and the _face_ he'd – that's what blows up in Thor's mind for a mere second long as that cursed baked banana jutting upright from that bowl in front of him drips with sweet honey and cinnamon cream sauce.

Thor shovels some more of the disgusting octopus cheese lodged in salty mildew into his mouth to keep from coming right on the spot. Because that stuff is _abnormal_.

Frowning unhappily he's really close to seriously angry at his brother, though. Such a devilry it all! He must have known how it would rile Thor up, the sly bastard, evil one. Yes, Loki knew exactly how he'd upset Thor. This isn't funny. Not at all.

And can't that Minister shut up already? It's like the man enjoys his stupid problems. Why, Thor cannot possibly be the only one having the idea of a blasted bridge there, really!

 _You're having this idea, though,_ Thor suddenly thinks in his brother's voice, _so say it._

Yes, that's what Loki would be telling him. That _effing_ \- !

And so he does. Just out loud and quite annoyed. Because really. A bridge. It's that easy.

The man is startled first. And then impressed. Father pats his shoulder approvingly.

Alright, and now that the spell of hours waiting and writhing inside is broken by the sound of his own voice Thor suddenly finds it perfectly easy to excuse himself for somewhere else he must urgently be now.

No fuss. No thing.

The fuck, he could have gone like HOURS AGO PROBABLY, FUCK.

As he thrusts himself up to his feet and his – _oh dear Nine_ – his blown up crotch pulsates outraged at the friction he throws his cape around his front and over his shoulder fitfully like he would wear it if he'd mope around for some reason. Just that he doesn't mope now.

He takes Mjolnir in hand and shouldn't even have worried for his prominent erection straining his trousers being noticed: For once his sweaty palm makes contact with the magical tool's handle Thor's urgency makes him dissolve rather impressively into a shouting lightning bolt as he _warps_ , not even flies, right away from the spot.

He doesn't manage that trick too often.

A blink of an eye later he strikes directly in his and his brother's bedroom, materializing with an ear splitting crash of thunder. The ground is dusted with the coal black ashen proof of electricity around his feet, star-shaped, and there is smoke trailing off his shoulders. Groaning deep from his guts his chest is heaving as his greedy gaze directly feasts on the body sprawled out prettily on their bed, hidden only by a whiff of a blanked, hiding nothing really. A mass of heat sloshing in his skull like drugs (and this is not the mead) Thor just stands _mesmerized_.

There is that finger softly trailing up and down the slim but solid bow of his brother's – _uh_ , Thor grunts - through the delicate fabric that's covering it, only the curve of a nail tickling through, teasing, feeding with all the good hopes and - !

Loki smiles. His face, his throat, his collarbones - all angles lie illuminated, hollows soft and shady vales. His cheeks are red, red, _red_ against his milky skin. Cracking one eye open (making the fan of his lashes flare in the sun) like perfectly casually he friggin' lazily just _smiles_ as he keeps touching himself; even if only barely so. How many times have they shared everything now, Thor not ever really managed getting him to lay hands on himself without literally fucking his mind out before. To be precise, he only managed that once, and Loki was _asleep_ through it.

Now he's just doing this on purpose - !

“You're late”, he purrs.

At once Thor balls his fists and pumps up his muscles, actually making his tunic rip open with the force of it. His body is like glowing steel right now, nothing could ever withstand. Before Mjolnir can even hit the ground he throws off cape and helmet and belt in full run, rips his trouser flap undone to free his monster - and leaps.

Their bed skitters a good twenty feet from its place as he's on Loki, grabbing for his brother's hips, the blanket, _get it out the way_ , gropes that butt cheek hard and, _get it out THE WAY_ , snorts angrily as Loki only chuckles. He knows the little beast is well prepared as his fingers meet no resistance. That sneaky hole is wet for him, hot, slick, swollen and - and, Nine, it's nearly _gaping_ , what did Loki _do?_

Desperate with the fuzziness of it Thor thumbs at the rim for a moment, tugs at the plushy way. Loki writhes with a mew and spreads his legs as Thor lets out a helpless whine at how his whole four (!) fingers slick inside with godly ease. Loki's pretty length is twitching oh so gently under his gaze, blushed and pretty and perfect and waiting. From the curls framing its root a warm, sweet cloud of feral perfume hits Thor in the face. His blood is _fire_ from it, _fire_. He can't help but drool. His spit drops in a long strand onto the smooth skin of his brother's inner thigh; and like it rolls down, disappearing behind that quivering boy sac, Thor feels a rich gush of leak flowing down his own jumping spear. Which should be _vaporizing,_ he muses, he's feeling so electrified. Gods, how he wants to swallow the lolling bastard under him whole! And tip to toe by that, until there's nothing left.

But he's also still upset, Thor tries to remind himself, too upset to give that sweet, pink, dripping crescent moon a kiss. _You'd like that, wouldn't you?_

He for his part would have liked _a lot_ in council. Couldn't have it, either. So.

He nearly doesn't catch how he grabs Loki's ankles, however, and pushes those legs even further apart, then up, forcing his brother's knees to knock his own scrawny shoulders into the mattress. Loki's bottom is lifted from the bed with that brusque move. Which gets a teensy, not so smug (now finally) whoop out of him there. And Thor's presented with a _spectacular_ sight.

Forgotten is his share of oil. He doesn't need it anyway. The sweat, the leak, the _pain_ has his sturdy manclub slippery as is. Licking his lips he drowns his gaze in the welcoming lair between his brother's cheeks. And then he's driving home at a gallop already. As if his life depended on it.

Kneeling upright with his head thrown back, his mouth agape, his eyes shut tight, Thor catches on his breath as he hammers Loki's body. His lungs have shrunken to half of their size once he pushed into that little squelching hole. Which shouldn't be _so_ little, so stretched around him as he comes intruding, for he _knows_ how it was open. But The Nine, it's still so tight.

For a moment Thor is overwhelmed by just how big his humble godly self must be right now. He just can't properly breathe the way he should to keep this pace (but he must keep this pace), no, he _can't breathe_ for how that well known sucking around him has him feel the skin of his cock getting dragged back and forth around the thick, pulsating shaft within, every thrust he stabs. The head of it feels like even now growing still, pumped fuller and fuller and fuller. There's that _vacuum_ sucking on his slit, which must be quite a cleft now, bulging as the head is blown around it. My, it's all too much already. Thor feels so much of himself there even that he could have sworn the fattest of his veins occurs to _snake_ under the skin of his cock. He's so brutally enlarging, every bit of him. Which is downright painful. His frantic ride for relief is rather nettling in the roots of his every hair, though _aching_ is a better word, instead of doing any good yet; it's in his scalp, his jaw, his arms and legs, his groin the most, it's like a thousand tiny thunderbolts piercing his body, needles digging deep for blood. And there his fingers and toes curl in the threats of looming cramps, and unforgivingly shoots his blood through his veins. He feels like some are bursting from the pressure, seeping the burning floods they carry into the free lands of his muscles and his guts. His balls are throbbing, too, the solid tug of them so heavy (wrenching at his spine), and this is really, _really_ painful through the pleasure. Everything's too big, he is too _big_ for his own skin, he felt that way at dinner already, and he's gonna burst himself and -

“Uh. Oh! I - I'm so – _BIG!_ ”

Indeed, he spat that thought out loud, however even between the rough, quick intakes of breath chafing through his throat (which are audibly mingling with those wet slaps, oh he _loves_ those slaps, no matter what, he means to know no skin slaps like does that of Loki's buttocks against him, there is that special sound to it). And then he suddenly actually hears his brother's fragile, overpowered gasps burst into breathless giggles under him.

That. Little. Shit.

Throwing himself down with his next thrust Thor glowers at that – Nine, _dear_ , he's so pretty, blushed and glassy eyed and clawing the sheets and spread _open_ , dear – well, he glowers at how Loki finds it funny having Thor so horny that it hurts. Having nearly deathly embarrassed him not only in front of one of Asgard's more important allies but their father, too. Hel, what if Thor had not gotten out of there unnoticed?

Somewhere at the edge of Thor's perception one of Loki's outrageous toes dares poke his face. As he's still keeping hold of his brother's feet. At the exact level he threw himself down into to glower. Loki, who's like by the way taking Thor's cock with a belly beautifully curling into the violent rhythm, lies giggling and totally pinching Thor's cheek with his toes.

THATLITTLESHIT.

Loki needs a punishment. That much is sure. Thor needs his fill, though, too, and needs it urgently. He's got to aim for a compromise somehow. And he knows exactly _how_.

Knows exactly where his brother's button sits. Knows to work himself off in him without as much as brushing it. Would rile the little nettle up _quite_ good. Oh yes.

Loki's eyes, however, they _twinkle_ , like he knew somehow, like he always knows what Thor is thinking, and he dares to flash that pearl white, impertinence toothed grin of his up at his sulking brother. Who in turn angrily drives his cock against the Trickster's finest spot it has him roll his eyes and yelp and downright jut his spine up against Thor's chest.

Because that grin needed a quick, effective wipe-off, that is. And because Thor couldn't really keep that shot of his hips to himself. He'd rile Loki up the other way starting just _now_ , goes without saying. Oh yes indeed.

Loki meanwhile, melted like by a jet of flame blared up his spine, lies now tying in vain to rut his hips, too, to get _more_ , and means to claw into Thor's shoulders for help - but in vain, in vain, Thor backs away too quickly: No, he will not have it. No, he wants to make him just a _little_ desperate for it, too. Let him wait. Like Thor fucking waited _hours_ for this, _hours_. If one didn't count the days before.

Thor wants to see the tease sweat himself boneless, wants to see his pretty balls bounce against his stomach as he pounds between his hind cheeks, his hole soiled with the white foam of loads Thor would have swirled up in him by then, _oozing out –_ he's pumping hard for that already – he wants Loki so frenetic as to make his show from earlier a promise kept and shamelessly wank himself off under him. Because Thor will not help him this time. No, he thrusts himself upright again, giving Loki's sweaty chest a push that has the breath forced from it with a lovely, helpless sound.

Loki grouses displeased, shoves Thor's hand off himself and grips the sheets hard again, trying to gain a little stance to grind into the frustrating rhythm fucking him apart without giving him much - which suits him right, Thor grins at that and grabs his hips, keeping them still. But there's a smirk splitting Loki's face again, too, and the sudden flash of bright green eyes tells Thor right _stories_ of a challenge accepted.

If only Loki's temples weren't moist with sweat – if only his hair wouldn't curl that way behinds his to die for jug ears … well then Thor would stand much better chances to pull off that punishment he spontaneously dreamed up in his heat-heavy blob remainder of a brain.

Those ears _are_ to die for. And those curly raven curls.

_Cute. Oh, it's so cute._

Loki's legs, free now (somehow) to do as they please, sling around Thor's waist with force. The heels of his feet dig so hard into Thor's working butt cheeks it sends thrilling itches up the Thunderer's spine. Thor grinds exceptionally violent at the spur and has them both spasm with pleasure and explode each a hoarse yawp of their own.

Recovering only just from the awesome shock of it Thor distantly feels his hips snapping bravely on and his tongue throbbing with the feral, inner taste of sex as he glances down at his brother - who appears to be seriously affected now, heaving his pinkish chest with melodies of whines.

He must have tossed his head about. His hair. There is that curly raven curl and it clings cheekily to Loki's corner of the gaping, panting, redredred lipped, whining mouth.

Nine, he might just be doing this hair thing on purpose, too.

Thor's heart jumps. His whole body starts. He means to taste his own seeds for a moment. His balls are tightening. He's getting way too close suddenly, way too soon, but then again - why not? His hips won't listen to his inner reins now anyway. The ride is bolting out of his control ...

This is when Thor startles the two of them with falling over mid rut: He takes a squealing Loki tumbling with him. Suddenly rolled over on top of a still frantically hammering Thor leaves the snot not at all able to process the shift of world so suddenly. Instead of being granted some control Loki's only being rattled on Thor's cock which is bucking his lightweight body up and down like an earthquake would.

Loki, slamming his palms onto Thor's chest for support, the nail of his pinkie scratching the isle of Thor's nipple _gloriously_ , keens an outdrawn sound at the unexpected change of angle. That keening of his vibrates to the enormous pace set into his bouncing butt from below, making it sound like some ridiculous sing-songy _AaAaAaAH!_ \- which makes Loki laugh heartily at last, or rather shoot out a cacophony of high-pitched and amazed moans. Thor, shouting with each pant by now, snakes of flame coiling, _hissing_ in his guts, clamps his hands tightly around the flesh of Loki's thighs and glares at his brother: He _swore_ himself, he and his stubborn, sulky, lust drugged oaf mind swore that he'd be mad with Loki, but he plain cannot seem to be as the little shittle sits panting and giggling and yelping on his cock like that; the whole setting must be doing quite a lot for his pleasure. No chance is he riding Thor, however, he's rather being kidnapped, carried away with not a chance to escape. _Little damsel,_ Thor thinks with a grin.

It's unexpected, this. And new. Quite beautiful.

But then, abruptly, Thor stops his ploughing to gather his thoughts. Without a doubt is Loki a sight right now, but _not_ the sight he wants him to be.

Loki's eyes are unfocused for a moment, his body trembling. Noting the lack of motion under him he wants to start rolling his hips and grind himself on Thor's weapon. But no, the Thunderer will not have it.

Thor starts his rut anew to throw his brother off balance, making Loki hobble with the force of it. Pressing that silly sound out of him one more time they guffaw both now, it's ridiculous.

“What are you – ev – ah, _ah_ \- !“ A squirt of early milk shoots out of Loki unexpectedly, the pearls of it hitting Thor's abs and dancing on their hard, thrumming surface like on the skin of a drum. The sight, the feel of it goes right to Thor's raging cock in his brother's clasping arse. And _shit_ , he grinds his teeth as Loki coils in that blissful spasm of his, that _I'm so close_ dance Thor knows oh too well from when he snakes it under him - _this_ was not supposed to happen so soon.

He rolls back on top fitfully. Loki cries out as he's crushed into perfect submission again. As Thor heaves himself back up, staring Loki down, he rolls his hips slowly now, determined to keep them both in check just a _bit_ longer. The fuck, his groins are _tearing_. He's got to think this through again. Somehow things are not working out. Like. He had a _plan_ or something. Had he?

 _Naked Vollstag, naked, Volstagg ... naked –_ Loki downright _eats_ his lower lip _\- oh shit, fuck that._ It is no use. The slowness of Thor's movements has his thrust only intensify. His chin is dripping sweat. His pecs are jerking uncontrollably and, and, he's falling. Only just catching himself on his elbows right and left to those goddamned to die for jug ears. Loki's eyes are _close_ like this, so close Thor can see the pupils quake and blow in anticipation with each thrust he takes. Loki wants it deeper. Harder, _more_. That's written in his eyes.

But he's all too sure to get it, too.

Not like Thor got any of what he wanted earlier in council.

“You. Teasy. Bastard”, Thor growls with each hit, never blinking, never ever, “I – _UGH_ \- nearly shut that Minister's mouth with my – _COCK_ \- you know that?”

Loki moans with relish at that thought, scratching Thor's shoulders, catlike, writing _want you - want me_ into his skin. Thor grunts and shakes his head clear.

“Is _your_ fault, you know that?”

Loki nods eagerly and bares his teeth, glorious abandon glistening on his eyelids. “Yes”, he hisses through a smile that's more a beastly snarl than anything.

Thor grounds on into him, steadily, slowly, forcefully. Not giving him _enough_. No, no.

 _Because you're_ “misbe – having”, _and_ , “proud of it – ah!”

“ _Yes_.”

“Should've you make _up_ for.”

“Ah-”

“'nd atone.”

“Yes.”

“Pay.”

“Yes, _yes_. Please, _yes_.”

And that's all it takes.

If only Loki _knew_.

Thor takes a run for the last chase – makes himself ready, knows it's building, rolling in – Loki bites his lip, anticipating the worst, the best, the most, the punishment – and Thor thrusts once more, avoiding Loki's precious spot, drives home balls deep, _shuddering_ so, and comes.

Comes.

Grabbing Loki's face in both his hands Thor brings them even closer together, fixes an unblinking stare into the throbbing depths of his brother's eyes. Wanting to claims the sugar breathing mouth under his in a brutal kiss at first he only ends up roaring down Loki's throat as he shoots. Thor screams into Loki's open mouth, and he spits with it – and Loki licks it up with a mewl.

It's a long, racketing flow. Thor goes rigid from it, what he rarely does, so powerful does it suck him out of himself. Only his hips keep snapping, shallow brunts, faster, _faster_ , until there's nothing left, no hips to snap, no body, all just melted mush.

Once he's through with it Thor groans outdrawn and satisfied and collapses with a body all too heavy in all the good ways. His limbs are mush. Everything's mush. He smiles.

Smiles into the neck of a crestfallen Loki. Who's wriggling under his boneless weight. Who can't believe the softening of Thor's cock in his arse.

“You - ! - get OFF me, did, you, _didyoujust_ fucking leave me alone with - !”

Thor sniggers through his nose, inelegantly slurring: “Pnnshmendd. You been naaasty.”

“Uhhg, you selfish _BRUTE_!”

Loki gets his right arm out from under Thor and wastes no time punching him everywhere he can. Thor laughs, sated and really, really happy with how flustered kitty tease ended under his prank. Not that he's done with him yet. He pushes himself up back to his now quite wobbly knees, catching fast hold of Loki's directly floundering shoulders before he can sulk out of bed and from Thor's slack and happy godhood spreading his butt cheeks.

“Oh, nonono, _you_ stay where you are. We'll take good care of you, love.”

Loki sighs near drunken gratefulness one blissful and oblivious moment long, his brows askew, but then he frowns: “What – _we_?”

“Means _you_.” And _did_ Thor count on that displeased groan, did he. He chuckles, shaking his head.

That there are even now inhibitions for them to be overcome, little walls to be broken! Alas. He wouldn't push his brother so – unless he'd earned himself as much. And Thor wants a treat now.

Measuring Loki's poor, throbbing length with a glance he licks his lips and whispers: “Always wondered, love … show me. How _you'd_ do. ”

Loki grumbles inarticulate vulgarisms under his breath and, really, it's so cute, he blushes pink all over, struggles between trying to get away, clawing Thor's wrists, and instinctively, _desperately_ grounding into that lazy, fat limb still spreading but not in the slightest pleasing him anymore. Oh dear, he's needy beyond rescue by now, Thor couldn't ever have found a better time to bail on him. He _awwws_ and strokes his brother's shoulder with a thumb. Loki kicks his ass for it, developing quite the vim with the heels of his feet.

He raged himself out soon, however, remaining a whiny, sweaty, high strung mess, dripping his navel full but far from coming yet.

“You better suck me now or”, Loki pouts and interrupts himself with an unhappy quiver running up his spine. Thor hurls him up flush against himself, pecks his forehead, throws him back into the mattress and smiles: “Nope.”

Loki downright squeals with frustration, rocking his hips without wanting to at that spiteful hint of friction so suddenly given and just as suddenly taken away again.

Thor should nearly have expected a trick now. Anything easing Loki out of this. Some honey dripping word, turning the table for him. But somehow Loki has never been false in bed. Just Loki. Loki. Pure Loki. Thor finally wants _all_ of that, though, no restrains no more.

Loki swallows on his pride, awkward with the feverish heaving of his chest. “Didn't know you like peeping. Like Fandral. _Arenobetter_ ”, he snarls in a weak, gulping, breathless attempt.

Thor shakes his head and snickers. But he's serious as he says: “Want you to _come good_ , love, but I'm not helping you. Time you feel good under my gaze finally.”

“But it's – _ah_ – kwawwd … “, Loki whimpers.

“'s not.”

“Not for _you_ I guess.”

“Now, now. You're so pretty, love”, Thor gently leans all down over him again, careful however not to touch too much, and snuggles into Loki's hair, sucks on a sweaty strand for a moment, then lazily kisses his neck with a sweet bite. Loki gasps and ruts against Thor's tummy.

“Show me how you're pretty with yourself, love. _Show_ me.”

Loki turns, his hot, damp jawbone brushing Thor's forehead. Thor gets back up to his knees again, smirking. And Loki's scowling really deep and really silly as he states: “You're strange.”

Thor shrugs. “You're stubborn.”

Loki rolls his eyes. But Thor has him give his last resistance up then with a teasing flick of his nipples. Loki arches and moans, grabbing Thor's hands and rubbing them flat against himself for more. His grip softens at once, however, and his eyes, too, as he cocks his brow with a resigning sound. Thor brushes the curly raven curl behind that one to die for jug ear. And Loki takes the chance to kiss Thor's thumb, close his eyes, kiss it again and linger – and then finally suckle it as his own hands actually reach down to urgently stoke himself.

Thor's heart jumps with pride. With joy! He's got him caving _in_. Was about time Loki finally abandoned his prissiness, now was it though. It's happening _now_.

Not to mention that lovely addition of sucking Thor's thumb. Like Thor came for _his_ back then, all needy and open about it. Needy and open.

Deliciously Thor slides his soft manhood in the cradle of his brother's body and bathes in how it melts to absolute surrender. Finally.

Loki's hands are _fluid_. Thor always found the act of handling oneself rather plump – but of course Loki would make that elegant, too. Thor shakes his head, blond, wet strands catching in his smile.

_Everything about you has to be divine, now has it?_

Quickly glancing up again he finds Loki's eyes determined to remain closed, as if he wouldn't feel so _seen_ if he could not, and yes, that tiny bit of shyness be him granted as it's striking Thor _so_ cute. While Loki's cheeks hollow around his thumb Thor's gaze flickers down between his brother's thighs again.

Dear, his wrists. His knuckles and his veins. Loki's fingers _dance_ before they curl into hard tugs, before he brings his one palm up to glide across his smeary peak, down, up again, his other hand kneading his root with devotion. He pumps himself in a repeating bend-slide-pull motion that seems well practiced under Thor's eyes. Imagine all the times his little brother did this on his own. Imagine how the kid he must have been fumbled about himself to find what he would like. Thor chuckles.

“There now, _there_ love, that is pretty”, he coos and brings his other hand down to play with Loki's balls, making the mouth around his thumb vibrate with a groan. “That's it, you're so sweet, are you? Much too sweet … “

Thor rubs insistent circles against the roof of Loki's mouth. His brother's tongue is working like a wet pillow on him, heavy, plump and full with the waters of a hot spring, sucks on his knuckle, sucks him hard and hard and harder. Loki's hips are snapping now, up into his fists, down into Thor's lap, and his hands are almost blurring. He's breathing heavily through his nostrils, drool is pouring down his chin and his throat is a struggle between mewling and gulping and _oh_ is that gorgeous.

Thor glances back and forth as he finds a pleasant thrill of new interest swelling his own spent self again; which didn't go unnoticed, goes without saying. Loki directly keens and locks his legs even harder around Thor's hips, downright impales himself on the still too giving cock. It's not _enough_. His fists are speeding. Nonetheless, his mouth snaps open with a wet pop and his spine shudders under the assault of pleasure. Loki lets out a pack of high pitched yelps. Thor growls, so happy with his Loki, and he squeezes the twitching balls in his palm. Gets out a scream from under him. And another stirring of himself, half up now, nearly ready to go again.

Loki at this point won't probably last that long, but dear, he is so good there, is he? Thor feels generous and rubs himself as hard into his brother as he already can and feels convulsions milking him. Loki cries out. And with a spasmic curl of his spine, a toss of his head and a moan breaking into one heady, outdrawn note he claws around his shaft and presses it as flat against his belly as he can; then it spits white gushes from his fist, the lovely waste of him splashing up to his chest. He kind of comes as if totally unprepared, however, as he's gulping just in the moment and his eyelids flutter open and shut and open again like someone pushed him off a cliff he didn't see, literally, coming. He coughs, hiccups a final whine out. And then he collapses into the panting, boneless wreck that's left of him. His hands smear absently through his mess on his belly and slump to his sides – where Thor picks them up, gives a satisfied purr and licks the warm cream off those fingers with some languid swipes of his tongue. Worshiping them. They've been obedient for him, so good. And he tells Loki's hands just that.

Perhaps out loud again, as there's that funny chuckle from earlier when he kind of complained about the massive size of his tortured cock. This time he chuckles, too.

He currently slurps around a fingernail and shoves his cock forward when one overwhelmed sigh from Loki nearly laments a little distressed about the man plug swelling up in him again. But like to shush his brother Thor takes his time indulging, only lazily rolling his hips. A sultry shudder goes through them, connects them. Loki softly regains his calm, and his chest stops heaving, too, until he sways. Thor has no rush letting his cock be suckled up to its war size again. This is so cozy now, it's perfect. And Loki's buttocks fit so good into his lap.

“Peeping Tom”, the tease eventually purrs with his eyes closed and his lips smirking. Thor gives his thigh a playful slap so it would wobble for him. Loki kicks his ass so it wobbles right back.

“Mmmmhmm”, Thor approves at length once he snuggled down, supporting himself on his elbows, to now clean up that smeary chicken breast under him, too, “like to watch you … and to have you … all again … “

“I doubt I _can_ already.”

“Mh ... can follow. Did that good.”

“Did I now?”

“Did.”

Loki clicks his tongue, messes up Thor's mess of hair and then loosely hugs his lion brother with a happy sigh. Thor busies himself a little more with lapping and Loki sighs a little more to it. Thor feels like they might just have found even another level of intimacy. He dives in it.

“Say, though”, Loki finally whispers while he sleepily takes the lazy rhythm Thor's in the process of building up, “did you talk to him?”

“... hnnnn?”

Loki actually laughs. The sound vibrates against Thor's tongue. Thor licks that up, too, bucks his hips and groans from the warmth swirling through his guts. Doesn't care much for talking now really. Let Loki, though, that delicate rumbling of his voice tasted good enough.

“Did you talk to him? At dinner? Are you _listening_ to me?”

“Who?”

“Me!”

“'m talking to you”, slurp, “now.”

Loki laughs again. Thor hums approvingly.

“The minister, doofus! Did you talk to the minister at dinner? Before striking the room with a thunderbolt and ravishing me?”

"Mh … yeh ... sure I did”, smacks Thor, confused now, “just tried to get through with - " _the fuck keeping me away from your effing little arse, that which is mine and which you know is mine as you prepared it all too well for me, you know._

Gently stroking Thor's back Loki makes a scoffing, smiling sound like he'd exactly understood that subtext.

"Ah. And did you say more than one word? Two sentences maybe? Even?"

"He had that story, you know", Thor heaves a sigh, "no matter, about some idiot people", smack, "being idiots about a river. Said they could just built a bridge as the man wouldn't shut up about it."

"Hn ... I see. And were you scared?"

Now Thor halts to think, looking quite hilarious with his tongue wide out mid-lap on Loki's ribs. He frowns.

"Uh – no." _?_

"Lovely.” He gets a thorough patting on his head. “My therapy seems to be working fine."

Which sounds a lot like … purpose? _What?_ Thor's face shoots up as he all but gasps: “You – what? Did you do? Whatdidyoudo, Loki?”

That wasn't planned, all this, was it? Loki didn't really purposefully _mean_ to have Thor as desperate for it as to be forced and finally speak up in council? Use _verbal warfare_ at last, how Loki calls it, how Loki taught him, to just get OUT OF THERE AND HAVE HIS PROMISED FUCK. Oh fuck. This makes sense. Too much sense. Loki dangled his little bottom in his face like you dangle a carrot in front of an easel who doesn't want to cross ... a bridge. The irony. Thor blinks, slowly, as his mind processes that.

Just this moment Loki's eyes adopt that innocent, round baby shape he's using oh so well.

“I said I had a headache. I think I kind of lied.” What makes three days of planning.

_Indeed._

Thor grunts.

“I'm proud of you.” Three days.

_INDEED YOU ARE._

Thor grins, head shaking, chest shaking with the building force of laughter.

He will totally have Loki fart little white clouds of come foam once he's done with him. And he won't be done until the goddamned sun is down and up again.


	37. 'Because I love you' 3/7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I did it again! GRRM of trash is back. Sue me for my writing pace. Or don't please, I am horrible, I know!

 

 

 

The sky above the realm is a masterpiece in pastels this sweet-scented afternoon. A pleasant time, a lazy time is it that Loki spends with his beloved mother, hovering high over the kingdom, the balcony overgrown with roses. They're having tea.

Frigga sighs pleasantly in a flowery breeze as Heimdall opens the distant Bifrost for the arrival of an outlandish and renowned jeweler; it is the crown. It's got to be widened without being damaged, the ancient band of gold. Thor's head is really big compared to Odin's. Compared to anyone's, that is.

Loki grins as he remembers tonguing a greenish, flimsy crown of magic on his brother's sweat-hot forehead just this morning. Things are getting serious now. The coronation is pacing toward them. And yet Thor only rarely ever sought Loki's lap for comfort lately. He's so brave, learning so fast. He's going to be Asgard's brightest sun once he sits on the throne. It's pride swaying in the cave of Loki's chest, that and always lust, thinking of his brother, pride and lust and love and _mine_.

“I've heard you have returned to your studies of magic, have you?”

Loki glances at his mother over the filigreed round table, only the hint of a guilt-ridden blush tinting his cheeks.

His legs crossing cozily he smirks once again, but not for his thoughts from before now, only at how easily he finds he can just be like _that_ with mother, be his quite a bit too feminine self around her, not like with father, always trying to have the most virile pose he can possibly manage. He puts his fragile cup to it's saucer and enjoys the little _clink_ it makes.

If only he could share everything with her, his final secret, too … that would be heavenly. Alas, if Loki was one day not meant to lie anymore he would probably stop being Loki.

“Indeed, I have”, he says, at least being earnest here. “It feels like I have been neglecting the arts for way too long somehow. But I'm getting back into the feeling quite easily. You don't unlearn such tricks just so.”

“Your so called tricks have always been a gift, and you know it, dear.”

He chuckles, fond of the compliment and cringing under it. Frigga knows.

“However … just don't you overdo it again”, she sighs with a lopsided smile that speaks of worry - but forgiving worry, and Loki's heart beats just for her that moment. She could be angry with him, even now, after what he had her through. But she is not. She wouldn't ever be.

“You're getting quite along with your brother I understand? I haven't seen too much of him lately, he is so busy with his father now. He hasn't moved back into his own quarters?”

“Ah, no, not yet. And we don't fight like kids anymore, by the way, fortunately not. He's kind of tired in the evenings but happy to have me around I guess. I'm good at making him laugh. I bet his health is grateful, too, that he rather spends his free time with family than his cronies - who'd have him boast and bouse himself to a wreck every night. No no, the many councils tame him even, you could say, as I really haven't seen him raving the taverns late off. I bet he's glad I know so much about Asgard's economy, too. Always sounds me out. Imagine, he takes _notes_ of what I tell him.”

Frigga nods amusedly at Loki's tone of voice (which he skillfully melted into one approving and yet quite scandalized flow).

“You didn't think it possible, did you, Thor holding a quill without breaking it in two? There's more to your brother than muscles and mead.”

“Yes, indeed there is. I've come to notice that a lot. Yet he's so _thick_ sometimes, isn't he?”

“I will not argue that.”

Loki snorts into his china cup, grinning. And Frigga laughs openly with him, happy to just have him around.

That he ever considered running away. How stupid he was. How ruthless.

She sighs, his telling glance making her emotional.

“There is more than quills and books to _you_ , on the other hand.”

“Oh, I would hope so.”

“And yet, Thor and you, you are … always so different, aren't you? It is a challenge for a mother, you see … we always try to love our children the same. Not making differences. But once I looked into your little eyes, that night ... my, I remember it like yesterday … I realized in order to love the both of you like you deserve it and need it, I _must_ make differences. Because you _are_ different, always have been. And anyway, I couldn't help myself. Sometimes I wasn't able to decide what to feel more guilty for. Loving Thor as my husband's little prince, our son and Asgard's rising dawn, or loving you as _my child_ , that and only that, mine alone. I didn't have to share you with the kingdom, with anyone. And I am guilty, I certainly am, that little Thor was too exposed and you too isolated at times. I'm so sorry, darling. I hope you understand, in a way, that I never meant you harm, none of you two.”

Loki nods. Feeling the rawness of her heart like holding it beating in his palms.

“I love you too, mama”, he whispers and smirks with twinkling eyes at her expression, “and no, I'm not too old to say that.”

“You better dread the day you think you are. I'd teach you otherwise!”

“And I'd be disappointed if you didn't.”

The sound of wings flapping overhead has them look up. Two ravens soar the sky above them. With a croak one bird talks to the other, makes it follow into a daring maneuver around a tower – Huginn in the lead, as he's always been quite the leader, and Muninn loyally at his tail.

Loki takes off an invisible hat at them – sending his regards, just in case father might be looking through their jet-black, shiny, pinhead gaze. Frigga waves her hand. Then she halts mid motion, however, as Loki sees from the corner of his eye. It's like a thought crossed her mind. It must have indeed, as the ravens _thought_ and _memory_ have that talent to liberate ideas in ways one least expects. Curiously he cocks his brows ever so gently at her, his eyes big spheres under them.

Her face remains turned to the sky, still looking at the birds roaming their boundless shores of clouds and nothing to restrain their flight.

“Do you know what you name means? Loki?”

 _Laufeyson._ Why is that abomination of a word returning to him? That wickedness he spat at his father's feet defiantly … when Odin claimed Loki had sold himself like a whore to the savages of Jotunheim and betrayed them all. _Laufeyson._ He shudders.

But _his_ name is what she said. His given name, no matter of what realm or father. Only that, Loki alone.

“No”, he breathes. Still she won't look at him, still she's like wistfully bound to the ravens in their distant dance.

“It is no aesir name, my dear. Your father chose to have another language to name you, one fitting you best. An ancient one.”

Loki shuts his lids tightly. It feels like ice is kissing his temple suddenly. It sounds like ice would snick, the breath that caught awry in his throat. And he should know that feeling and that sound, he knows he should, like from a dream he might just have forgotten …

He gulps and tries to mask himself again, train his face to a plain wondering thing of innocence, but his sudden and mysterious distress is wriggling like snakes underneath.

“Is it ... joetnir?”

_Blue hands, blue skin. Eyes red like blood ..._

But no, merciful Norns, it is not possible. Such silly thoughts. Fears, Nine All! Loki shakes his head decidedly, adding the only plausible explanation himself: "Because I was born after father won the war with Jotunheim."

Odin would name his child in their language, yes, steal the last of them which would have stayed unbound. That's what a warlord does indeed.

Mother only smiles. But finally she looks at him. And Loki feels like he should fear that fondness in her eyes which somehow suddenly will not be the kind he knows so well from her. It's tender, loving. But it seems so _knowing_ , too ... too knowing – knowing things which skulk behind a veil in Loki's wilder lands of mind.

Things that would kiss like ice.

_But it's not possible -_

"It has a meaning, this name."

"Has it?"

"It says _You are free_."

Those three magic words then have the spell of horror broken. Loki chuckles bitterly, shaking his head. The irony! Having a name calling freedom in the language of a race in chains. Only that it fits Loki so well, it's awful. Isn't he all seeming and being nothing behind it? He is a trick. His magic an illusion. His freedom but a word.

"I know, my son, I see that cloud returning to you since you've been a child: You feel you're limited. But if you would just trust me if I told you that's not true. You _are_ free, Loki. Maybe more than Thor will ever be.”

Sighing he ponders this. There is an unmistakable truth in it. Instead of Thor, who deeply feared his fate, maybe still does (yes, he does), trying to grow into the throne eventually, Loki is no one's king. No one's but maybe his own.

How unfortunate, though, that a free soul's happiness should be bound to a man that is caught in a crown.

_I didn't have to share you with the kingdom._

Like mother, too, Loki will always have to share Thor. And this is not what freedom tastes like. This is bitter, really, much as he tried to deny just how it bothers him.

Because who will bear Asgard's heirs?

Now that Sif is gone, now that _she_ doesn't even have a face, it's almost worse. But _she_ will come. Sooner or later.

Loki's always just as free as Thor can be – no more.

“Thank you for telling me my name's history, mother. An interesting thing to know.”

“Not only history, my son. Your name is always _you_ , it is your present and your future. _Loki_ to live and choose and act and love. _Loki_ to do however you deem right. _Loki_ to be free.”

Like it was really not only the word he would be called by, like it was some ancient, magical chant instead, that's how she said it.

And if he did trust in that spell she offers him? What would he want to choose, to love?

 _I want to be a queen, mama, I want to be Thor's queen._ Then he knows it cannot be. No, _Loki_ is a fairy tale. A pretty lie.

Deeply confused and shamed inside himself he stands up. He is shaken, but he's thankful for his mother's clueless goodwill nonetheless. She wants the world for him. But Loki only wants to be his brother's world.

Kissing her cheek goodbye he excuses himself to his studies and leaves.

 

 

 

***

 

 

 

It's been weeks again. Weeks of quick, secret, stolen moments together. Being apart too long. Their mornings early, their evenings late, eating their precious nights, always too short, away from them.

Oh, it was about _time_ they tricked the court, really.

Loki dangles a heavy vine of grapes above his own head. Plucking a juicy red ball from it with his teeth he lies like poured into his sheets, sunlight playing all through the room, making it golden. He hums as he bites through the teasingly plump fruit and releases its sweetness onto his tongue.

The red ones are his favorites. He cannot stand them blue.

With a side glance he eyes his brother's back as Thor stands towering in front of the windows. His crimson cape pooling at his feet he absentmindedly opens and tosses his belt, undressing casually till he's left stark naked against that striking glass front stretched around the whole room, floor to ceiling, not a single angle leaving space for hiding or for compromise. He could be seen by anyone now if they were not mirrored to the outside. Nine, Thor stands like a holy man presented to the kingdom at his feet which would be his to lead and rule so soon. Loki gulps as he drinks in the sights. It's a sheer painting, goodness.

“When's he about ready to leave, then?” Thor asks.

Loki props himself up on his elbows, smugness making his stomach flutter.

“Should be any moment.”

Smirking with excitement he jumps to his feet and strolls over to Thor's side. Loki could well start undoing his buttons now, too, but somehow Thor's much more capable of peeling him out of his garments. Much more fun letting him do that.

And anyway, he's way too busy seeming totally unaffected by the magic trick they're about to witness.That one he practiced like a madman for a week now to master the illusion of it.

And there they are, tiny from up here but no less glorious: Fandral and some _other_ Thor riding out onto sparkling Bifrost with the speed of adventures the Dashing has secretly agreed on meeting alone - as the royal companion at his side would disappear once they left the realm. Loki sucks in breath through his flaring nostrils excitedly at how perfect it looks. How the helmet gleams to rival day's light, how the cape slaps the wind and billows triumphantly, how Thor's thighs press into the galloping mare, dear Norns, it is _perfection_. From earlier attempts at the magic twin he knows the face to every pore, too. He licks his lips and wriggles his bare toes in the real cape lying thick and soft under his feet. Giddy with pride he doesn't know when he started to knead his brother's muscular forearm, but _fuck, I am so good_ he thinks.

Thor gives him a look and whistles appreciatively as his eyes fix back on the illusion of himself growing smaller and smaller in the distance. “I am impressed, love. Like I'm down there … though I am here.”

_With me. Where you belong, at last._

It's a little prank the brother's are playing here. This is Thor's _free_ time which he's supposed to spend in the open to refresh. Instead of out in the wild and jolly, however, he can be here with Loki now, indulging. And he won't be expected back for two long days.

Loki's insides dance with the genius of this simple trick. And the fact that he'll be hiding Thor up here with him and have him soaked in daylight, playing that it's finally allowed for them to be together. He'd feed his brother like a hostage, locked away in their oh fabled, secret, _sacred_ chamber of the bed.

Loki sputters at his own dramatics. But he loves this. So. Much.

“Is that _really_ my real mare, though?” Thor quips (as Loki said Thor's stallion remaining in the stables would be suspicious), rightfully puzzled but eager to understand. “Because if that's an illusion, that _me_ , how does the pap feel that he's ridden?”

Loki shrugs. Explaining how his magics work has never been his favorite task. It takes away the _magic_ , you could say, as really he is but an astonishing illusionist rather than anything powerful. But as often as Thor asks for it lately, and dearly awed, the shrugging-off evolved into a teasing game by now.

 _So you could practically do, I don't know, anything?_ , Thor would usually say.

 _Nature's limits are my limits._ And that would be all he could get. Well, sometimes with a little hint.

Loki feels like hinting today.

With a snap of his fingers he smirks up into Thor's eyes and makes his own glow with deep emerald fire while he does.

“I told the good thing that your royal keister would be straining its spine. Right now, right there. And he believed it. I told the light to thicken into flickers of your form. I told a rainbow to pour its colors into it. And they thought they should.”

“Did you now?” Thor's strong arms sling loosely around Loki's waist, pulling him in. Loki licks his smiling lips and happily sucks in his brother's warm,raw, overwhelming scent, freely radiating from all his bare skin, and all for him and him alone.

“I am convincing like that”, he purrs into Thor's mouth.

“Are you?”

“I am.”

“Then tell me what to do and make me.”

Loki moans wistfully, having quite precise ideas of how to spend their stolen time. He feels his brother's regal flesh throbbing against his stomach, the hard, familiar press of it burning through his clothes as though they weren't even there - like it should always be. A finger tangling in the soft, blond curls right in Thor's nape Loki rolls his hips like temptation is a snake and curls his tongue against his brother's. Teasing. Pulling out of the kiss again.

“Fuck me until I don't remember I'm a man.”

Growling and challenged Thor gives Loki's middle a squeeze. “Now that's no magic. I was up to do that anyway.”

And Loki's tunic comes undone by that, not only off, there's a tinkling rain of buttons rolling on the floor as Thor's hands are already on Loki's buckle. The green shred Loki shrugs out of with a grin falls beautifully contrasting into Thor's deep read cloak to their feet. Having ripped the belt open Thor yanks Loki's trousers down to his knees and steps into the crotch of it, pushing it lower still. Loki feels himself being lifted out of his pant legs by Thor grabbing heartily into his butt cheeks and heaving him over his shoulder.

That's what he meant: Much more fun getting naked like this.

Loki laughs, muffling the sound of it in Thor's muscles as he bites greedily, playfully down on whatever will meet his mouth first. He earns himself a smack across his bottom with it while Thor's walking them to bed now. Obviously.

Loki lands with a wheeze, his back bouncing a few times on the mattress. Thor is cowering above him instantly, bringing with him warmth and warm shadows, his hair golden curtains right and left, and Loki feels he's in the inner chamber of a beating heart. He spreads his legs and hooks them in behind Thor's knees. A forehead heavy as the world rests on his own. His breath hitches as Thor's balls swing gently against his own, and Nine, the dominating presence of that manhood just a slip of air away from his own little worm cringing excitedly - it has an aura, Loki's sure, and it's pulsating hunger.

“There”, he whispers as he guides one of Thor's hands onto his belly, palm up. He snatches for the little vial he knows he brought into bed, uncorks it and douses his brother's hand with oil. A little pool trickles into his belly button and he catches on his breath again. The growl vibrating from Thor's chest is good enough to make him shudder already. Thor moves to lazily touch himself wet. Gulping with a grin Loki only just withholds from thrusting up against the dripping knuckles brushing him – that would have Thor's blood heating up and Loki needs him in control only a little longer.

Bracing himself he feels his whole insides flutter. What Loki's going to try is a premier. He takes a risk with it, too, as he didn't prepare his body for Thor this time. But the thought alone makes him want to moan like he'll never be the same again.

Playing with himself a little more Thor dives into Loki's mouth for a dirty kiss. Loki tries to keep it chaste, however, telling his brother to channel his attention back from his cock into his brain. It doesn't work that easily, expected, though, and only when Loki stops Thor from fisting them both together (gasping, mind, how could he not), only then Thor pulls back and gives him a puzzled smile. Loki gently takes his wrist to make his stroking stop.

“See, I've been working on _another_ trick. I'd like to show you.”

Thor licks his lips for what feels like eternity. His eyes, blown pupils black, are searching. “ … go on, then, baby bird.”

Loki chuckles. His grip on Thor's wrist tightens, then he's guiding him between his cheeks.

“Touch me. Just touch.”

Thor complies, and a wild heartbeat long there's emotion on his face. His slick fingers are poking Loki's little pucker which is tight and shut. It's an act of trust, meeting Thor unprepared; Loki rarely ever does anymore, they know that.

But trust is only the beginning of what he wants to give today.

Blushing and nervous suddenly, he nuzzles Thor's jaw with his nose and purrs: “Promise me patience, yes?”

“Anything”, offers a rough whisper with a kiss on Loki's brow. Thor goes tense with anticipation, from the crown of his head to his toes in the sheets.

Shakily breathing out to compose himself Loki closes his eyes and settles back, one hand still around Thor's wrist, the other on his broad, strong shoulder, gripping up from under his armpit. Like this Loki gives himself over to the feeling of it all; the heat covering him, the tasty musk of Thor's breath, the fingers on him, _there_ , that touch, Loki needs touch to concentrate on down there, and that it is his brother now, not himself like when he practiced, yes, that helps him, too … his breath comes shallow, faster, and he feels his magic coiling in his guts.

 _Open_ , he tells his body, _open for my love._

Because that is, how he lately noticed, what he always wanted with Thor. He wants to open up for him without the help of force, wants to be able to do it alone, like women do, aroused, embracing, naturally.

Moaning under the wave of his own spell Loki rolls his head slowly, his mouth falling agape like his hole growing soft and _there_ , open, under Thor's lingering touch.

 _Again_ , he chants in his mind. _Again._

He's growing wider, softer still. His grip on Thor's wrist shakes, but determined he shoves his brother's hand a little deeper.

“Feel”, he gasps.

The tips of three fingers sink into him easily and cream the way. He's whining at the first contact with his sensitive skin inside. Soon the fourth in coming, too, and then knuckles push against his rim. He shudders around the deep, broad ministration. Thor's thumb digs painfully into the flesh of Loki's butt cheek, but it doesn't matter. It's the oil that's bringing the illusion of it close to perfect, making him a slick, hot, puffy girl in bloom and drooling nectar.

If only he could do that on his own, too. But alas, nature's limits are his limits, and Loki doesn't have an option to pour any juices there. What he accomplished is a sweet wonder, though, and never has he felt that beautifully willing. It's a difference, wanting it only in you mind or wanting it with all you've got, soul and body, too.

_My body wants you, too._

Loki sighs with joy, his last restraints melting down. Oh he's ready like he's never been before.

Working to lift his heavy eyelids he feels both of his hands crawling like pulled by gravitation between Thor's trembling thighs. He grasps his brother's flesh and pumps it firmly, tugs it down into the direction he needs him to go. The shaft is burning under his palms and it's so silky in its thickness. Pulsing, snaking veins, every ridge familiar. It's the most glorious thing Loki has ever called his own. Thor's face is the unmoving mask of a creature of prey waiting to leap and kill and feast.

“Want”, Loki begs breathlessly. _You can. I want. You can._ A little cloud of green and sparkling magic escapes his mouth with it, fogging Thor's face: The look he bores into Loki though it is the world for him.

Then, screaming, Loki's taken at full tilt. His wits are pumped out of him with the first ferocious thrust impaling him. He's left a mindless, thrashing shell of flesh and bone, nothing makes any sense or anything important anymore but _deep_ and _full_ and _more_. Inside. A shell full of his lover, Thor, Thor, _Thor in me_. It's everything.

Thor's erratic from the start. They jumped from earth right into cosmos, and its just where they belong. Loki glories in the girth ramming his guts into his chest, it's getting tight up there and hard to breathe but _goodness_ does he need it, does he always, always need it, being put into his place like that, pushed out of the way inside himself. He wants Thor's all, he wants it whole, because Thor's always been the better of them, how could Loki pass the chance to take him under his skin like that?

Arching his back in the relentless thrusts Loki roars and grinds his heels into the firm mass of his brother's buttocks, urging him on, deeper, more, _more_.

The memory of that disastrous dream of himself, a girl, and the Jotun raping him, lashes the overblown sponge that's Loki's brain, but it feels good now somehow, thinking of how he felt, _there_ , how _she_ felt rather, how Loki felt like taking a right world into her womb. Wild with lust he wants Thor _in her womb_ , and now. His body, head and limbs, down there, _in me._

_Get down._

Thor's claws abuse his hips as he rams on, and Loki scratches down his golden calves in turn, unaware that he's drawing blood. Every time Thor's hipbones crash against him Loki feels his own balls jumping to and fro – the weight should be distracting him from being a girl for Thor, yet it does nothing but remind him how much heavier his nipples were if he had breasts, jumping to and fro. Each slap they'd make on him would be deliciously shooting his brother's violence in flashes down his milk channels (like it's shooting down the channel in his rock hard cock, like that, _like that_ ). He doesn't even know he started chanting, loudly, hoarsely, telling Thor and his own body, everything: “YES, LIKE THAT, YES, YES, YES-”

But he's abruptly silenced with a tongue bulging blown and squishy into his mouth. Loki sucks on it like he would suck the big head of Thor's cock, the form and texture feels the same right now.

If possible Thor's even rutting harder. Loki merely notices his blood stained hands now fisting his brother's hair. Then he's pulled up, Thor's pulling back and he pulls Loki with him, because Loki has him by his hair and he has him by his tongue and never ever will he let him go again.

With the strain of sitting up Loki feels his body clenching on Thor's cock, the pressure of the thing invading him getting unbearable and _so_ good with it. He lets go of Thor's tongue finally (but for a heartbeat he's proud that surely he'll have sucked it numb) and with his whole frame spasming he cries out, again, louder again, red dots in his peripheral sight. His womb is gonna tear from Thor, he knows it, and as if that wasn't something scary to be overwhelmed by Loki knows like in a fever he was born for that purpose alone. She's aflame.

Sitting in his brother's hammering lap, receiving like that, the length of his own smeary cock rubbing against the sheer working force of muscles in Thor's stomach, then his foreskin catching on Thor's navel, tugging sharply – it's too much. Sobbing full throatedly Loki spills between them, his butt being helplessly pounded up and down. The angle makes the movements squelch, and a silly, blissful moment Loki's sure his ears are being fucked. He's curling limply against his brother's chest and licks his heart; sure Thor would feel it on his heart that Loki's licking him.

It doesn't take much longer and Thor slings his arms around Loki's boneless form like vices. He stills with a final grunt, only to even pick up pace once more, he squeezes them like he means to squeeze them into one another, it's just never close enough, never, no, never ever, … and then he shoots his white hot load into Loki's exhausted belly.

Yes. There. Thor's seeping into him …there now, they're one now, close enough _._ Loki yowls as he sucks him up. There now, there.

Grateful and speechless they flop back down into their sheets. A lump of tangled limbs is what they are. The fabric under them feels soothingly cool to their burning skin, and so, so soft. The perfect cloud to calm their racing blood and heaving chests.

Loki purrs as he plants kisses with his pleasure trembling lips to Thor's glowing throat, and Thor slurs sounds of love into the affection.

That was really, really, _really_ good, they both agree without needing to say the words.

They rest curled up in that messy embrace for long enough to fall into a heaven of a doze. The sunlight makes their closed lids heavy, makes them warm and orange like softly burning over their eyes. Sometime they start kissing again. Loki thoroughly indulges in the pure noises of their mouths, it's such a peaceful sound. And he shudders from Thor's fingertips wandering down the curve of his bum, tenderly stroking the sore skin of his pucker where it's still stretched wide around the softening flesh of Thor's cock. Halfway it did slide out when they fell, yet they lie comfortably without it leaving him completely. Loki covers Thor's playing hand with his own. Everything's got to stay right where it is right now, forever, he decides with a smile. He found Thor's tongue again, too, nibbles deliciously on the treat, and his other hand is back in Thor's hair.

Every deep breath that he takes makes Loki believe he feels Thor's mellow flood swaying gently in his guts with a tide that's only theirs. And a silly moment long he wants to think the longer he keeps it from seeping out the surer his belly could be swelling with it's fruits.

That's what he makes himself giggle with eventually. _I'm so barmy, wanting my brother to get me preggers. Really now._

Thor sighs amusedly and rumbles: “Whusso funny, hu?”

“I just wondered if our kids would have black or blond hair, or both, striped like bees.”

“Bees. Definitely bees.”

It's a bewildering comfort for Loki, and he didn't know he needed to be comforted at all, this hearing Thor not even hesitating to join the idea of them having babies … _heirs_ ... wistful as it might be.

It's rather paining, though, with how much passion Loki wants kids having bee striped hair now.

Before he can actually shed a tear about them never going to be real he's rescued from his post orgasmic soppiness: Thor found the vine of grapes somewhere next to Loki's shoulder and feeds them both a few. Loki feels his mouth filling with three at once and chews deliciously. How the fruits managed to stay on the bed at all will remain a mystery, however, as the bed itself might once again have wandered miles from where it usually stands. Loki glances up and sees the windows dangerously close to the headboard. Nine forbid they almost fucked themselves through them.

Again.

Thor slips his playing hand out from under Loki's cradling it and leaves his crack. He gives one buttock a good kneading before bringing his fingers, plump from sated lust, to Loki's temple.

Loki closes his eyes and purrs under the touch, but he protests when he feels Thor's manhood slipping just an inch further out; he digs the heel of the foot he has tossed over Thor's hip into that butt and grips the slippery thing from behind his back, grousing out: “ _You_ stay where you are.”

Thor finds that really funny and gives the tip of Loki's nose a kiss for it. Loki purrs again. Thor hugs them closer still and lets out a big, big sigh. He's not going anywhere and doesn't seem to be objecting.

“What you did, earlier …”, he ponders contently then, “how did you do that, love?”

Loki feels his tongue is starting to be somewhat sleepy - “ ... _mmhhmagic_.”

“Hear, hear.”

“Convincing like that, r'member.”

Thor chuckles. “Convinced yourself, now did you?”

“ ...did...”

“Wake up, pretty bird.”

Loki cocks his brow and tugs his eyelid up with it. Just one, though. He's so warm and lazy, there's no way he'll open both.

“When did I even grow a beak?” he deadpans at that birdy pet name; fucked into Valhalla as he is, he'll never be too far to throw some sassy comment.

Thor is a giant little shit (who learned from the master, granted) as he plainly states: “Your nose, quite sharp and beaky, is it.”

“ _Fuck_ you,” Loki laughs, now full on there again. He gives Thor a hefty smack on that shoulder which is actually heaving with chuckles.

However, Thor isn't done yet with his explaining why Loki is absolute fowl.

“I'm also sure you can fly”, he says, “with all your convincing magic and stuff. Like talking the air into not letting you fall. Who would ever let you fall anyway. Pretty little bird.”

The way that thought obviously makes Thor happy is enough to have Loki's insides bounce. Not that his magic would ever let him do such a thing. They're both so _sappy_ right now, however, they're _diffluencing_.

“Sure I could fly”, Loki encourages, not least because it would have been so good had Thor never been horrified by Loki's nearly falling to his death in that wild pursue of the Golden Stag. Sometimes he likes this game of ifs and buts. It's making things that went wrong just a bit better. But he'll also stay realistic, lest he says sappy things about bees and stripes and heirs again. “I'm sure I never tried it, though, and I wouldn't risk giving you a heart attack with jumping off the palace. But I promise to try whenever I fall by accident.”

Thor's content enough with it. “That's what I love my good boy for.”

_My boy._

Unexpectedly, Loki catches on his breath. He isn't sure, maybe it's just that word, maybe the way Thor's thick, short fans of lashes are ablaze in the sun ... maybe it's just the feeling of a little frozen drop of pain plummeting into his guts all of a sudden. The smile on his lips melts softer now, from teasing into something that is hurt.

“Would you love me if I was a girl?”

He can't believe he _said_ that. A moment Loki's heart seems to falter. Thor obviously can't believe he meant it, though. So silly, really. Why should they concern themselves with such impossibilities?

That's why a loving kiss meets Loki's forehead as it would that of a sleepy toddler rambling cute little nonesense things, and, at the touch breathing again, Loki thinks it's almost good enough to brush aside whatever welled up there. At least for now.

“Be what you will”, Thor breathes against his skin, "how could I ever stop?”

And even though that's honest, no, Thor _cannot_ know what these words weigh in Loki's heart.

That's also why the oaf goes right back to lightheartedly dig into their shrugging-off-the-magic game. That's really like Thor's favorite game late off. Next to sex that is.

“But I still don't get it, see. How do you heal if your magic is illusions? And _The Nine_ did you do with your gorgeous tushy? You just don't want to spill because you're scared someone might copy you. Bet you keep a secret that's as great as the void.”

That comparison has Loki frown; he's not happy with it as it makes him wriggly and ashamed all over again. The fucking _void_. Bringing up that story with himself sulking through the palace, hidden under his invisibility. Seeing things, _doing_ things he's not quite proud of. Well, it _could_ be seen in a romantic light, somehow. But. Then again it could be interpreted as himself being childish, egocentric, paranoid, voyeuristic ect ect ect. Up to this day Loki's not sure he'll ever work the courage up to admit that hoax to his brother.

“You _know_ I didn't really travel the void, do you?”

At some length, Loki feels Thor shrugging. He does it with a meaning to it. Meaning that no, Thor isn't sure, and yes, that's entirely Loki's fault. What is too much. Thor's too goodhearted to push much more, but it's clear he feels not trusted whenever topics like this bubble up to the surface. Him dropping it, though, like he drops things uncomfortable to Loki most of the time now, it would be unbearable.

And as sentimental as Loki finds himself he caves this time, at least for one of the truths Thor asks of him. Sighing, he snuggles even closer and hides his face in his brother's warm armpit. Yes, he loves it there. All the strong, clean, pure Thor musk is lulling. Then he starts explaining in earnest, his magics that is, as it's the easier topic right now. He doesn't want too many secrets in the room, fuck his mysterious reputation. Secrets are beasts that pull you from each other's arms. Good material to work with in so many cases, just not when you're working on closeness. Loki thinks he's nursing enough of them already.

“You know, it's like this: Healing is nothing unnatural, it's a thing that happens on its own. I just need to increase the speed, it's got a lot to do with motivating my wounds actually, what sounds weird as it's more me concentrating _on_ rather than having a conversation _with_ the object or creature or condition I am interacting my magic into, and then with the healing for example it looks like I'm a wonder doer, though I'm really not.

“I'm just, as you will know, a terribly good liar: My spells are only stories. You've got to bring an amount of inborn magical talent with you, but then that's all there is to it. I tell my body to heal faster until it believes it can. Maybe I could even trick a disease without known cure into dissolving, but I'm not sure of that and thankfully I didn't ever have to try.

“However, most things I achieve are things that would have happened sooner or later anyway. If I want to, say, make an apple fall from a tree. Hitting someone's head or so”, with a sour face Loki remembers that bitch in the royal gardens who talked about him hopefully being dead – while Thor muffles a rumble of laughter in his chest at the idea of Loki wanting to hit people's heads with fruits, what must appear as a really characteristic Loki pastime to him, “well, I go and tell the branch it isn't strong enough to hold that heavy apple any longer. And so the branch lets go of it. The apple falls. A physical result from nothing but a suggestion.

“But you see, at some point it would have fallen on its own, my meddling or not. Maybe that's where my reach has its limit, maybe that's where my imagination does. Fact is you just have to make the world listen to you. Or your thoughts, that is. I'm not voicing. Somehow that takes the stealth of it as I have experienced, and without stealth I feel less blindly trusted, like the openness bends my intentions in a way I just haven't got a grip of.

“That's completely different from talking to people, goes without saying, which is hard, fair work, making someone buy your story. You don't just go and work magic on the mind. Minds battle minds. Magic influences nature. That's because they're made of the same stuff. Manipulating someone's thoughts with magic is as much against the way of things as is actually trying to convince an apple to fall from the tree by _talking_ to it.

“Did you know, however, that bumblebees are too heavy for their wings to carry them? Yet they don't drop because they think they won't and no one ever told them that they should. That's peculiar I guess. I like to think that if I stopped telling myself I can't do certain things I just would. But that's very likely just daydream megalomania.”

A little silence buzzes in the room when Loki ended. It's while Thor seriously gnaws on this chunk of information and Loki's fighting a belated crestfallen pang at the bumblebees reminding him of their imaginative bee-stripe haired perfect little monster children again. Then, with a long, low sigh rolling in Thor's throat, the silence is broken. And Loki thinks absentmindedly that not long so ago he would have cocked a brow at the reflective sound his oafish brother just let out.

Thor says: “ … Loki, this is no illusion work. It's power.”

Loki smiles, because _sure_ Thor would see it like that. Why that would annoy him more than please his ego is beyond him, though. He chuckles, but his heart's not in it, and he curls a bit more in on himself, as hedgehogs do when they want to hide. In the process he rubs his nose along the rippled line of muscles running down Thor's body.

“No …no, I'm not making things happen. I make _things_ make things happen.”

“Your body is no thing.”

“Every body is”, he shrugs.

“But you make them nonetheless,” Thor insists.

“Nah.”

“ _Yes_ , no Loki, listen. Yes! The Nine, when did you master this? You could have made me trip in sparring against you a thousand times, telling my feet they should stumble!”

“No, I-” Loki rolls his eyes. Like it was that easy, really.

But Thor insists just more: “No, _yes_. I _do_ know gravity. That's a law of nature.”

He really doesn't know why he's annoyed, but Loki shrugs irritably, giving Thor just as much as to hopefully make him stop already: “Yeah, that you would land on your ass now and then is indeed a law of nature. And I will admit I _tried_ to make you stumble - once – but the outcome could have been a coincidence, I was watching from a tower window and who knows if there was just a stone in your way or so-”

“When was that?”

“Ages ago. I remember the hilt of your wooden sword knocked Volstagg's buck teeth out because you hurled it awry when you tripped. Was when you were against Hogun for the first time”, because little prepubescent Loki had that bet with himself that he'd make the grave, boring warrior boy laugh by swatting his boister brother on his caboose. Didn't work, though. Waste of time, that Hogun fellow … “I had the worst headache of my life that evening because I tried so hard. Never tried it agai-”

“You fucking _did_ that, did you?!” Surprising Loki a lot Thor gives them an excited squeeze. Oh Idunn's Rotten Apples, this is _not_ where Loki wanted this go – Thor's voice is loud and jolly all of a sudden. “You little liar, really, keeping that to yourself all these years! What more did you do? Fandral was a mess on horseback that time he grew his first moustache, and - “

“I told you I'm not sure I even – and I didn't - ”

“- I remember Sif hitting herself in the face with that shield she tried to lift - ”

“Well, she was just _stupid_ there, I could have lifted that thing without hurting myself!”

“- and when Volstagg put on his armor, can you make things, I don't know, shrink, because in the morning it fit him perfectly and then he dropped unconscious later because all of a sudden it wouldn't let him breathe - “

“Volstagg is _fat_ , Thor! And he ate three boars, seven salmons and a cow that day – are you even _listening_ to me?! I didn't, Thor, I'm not even _good_ at magic, and I definitely wasn't better in the days you and your cronies called me _Lousy Loki Mousy Poky_!”

Loki gives Thor an upset shove with the last words – he's kind of panicking right now in all the fuss - and Thor stops short at once. Contrite about how he himself and his friends treated Loki back then he looks his brother in the eyes beseechingly.

“That name was Sif's idea.”

A cocked brow is sufficient to shut him up.

Frustrated, Loki heaves a sigh. He wriggles in Thor's arms to get comfortable again. And he whines because the movement has his brother's slack manhood finally slip out of him. Awesome. On top of feeling fretful he's feeling empty now and leaking and directly colder with that gush of Thor's body heat gone in a stream. The sheets are a sticky puddle under his butt.

“See”, he tries again, “magic takes a lot of me. It's _draining_ in a way. Satisfying if it works, oh yes, but actually painful if I overdo it. And with people as strong-willed as you and your gang it's even worse, I mean, I can make nature take a bow for me, I can manipulate myself, but you – that would knock me out I'm sure. Try to bend a twig, try to bend Mjolnir. That's about the difference. I didn't do any of those things, much as I wished I had. You were just a bunch of idiots.”

Pondering, Thor gets up on his elbow. He looks out of the window where a pair of pidgeons flutters by. His hair is a _mess_ , strands of sun exploding around his head like a halo, Loki notices, annoyed even by his own fond feelings right now.

“Strong-willed?” Thor asks at length.

“Well, stubborn. Pig-headed. Intractable, say what you will.”

“And if I, I don't know … if I let you?”

“Let me what?”

“Let you make magic on me.”

Snorting with unexpected laughter Loki gives Thor's nipple a pinch. Which has Thor shriek. “You know that sounded wrong in _all_ the ways, do you, oaf?”

“Ya, you know what I – EH! Stop that, you _know_ what I mean!”

“Wouldn't be the point, though, would it? If you are so volunteering you could just do as I ask without me throwing spells at you.”

Thor fixates Loki with a look in his eyes there (after swatting his pinching hand aside like a mosquito) and it's quite simply too intense: That blue in the sun looks like glittering, cut gemstones, and that's exactly the kind of _stubborn_ Loki meant his big brother possesses. No way could he ever work around that inborn strength.

“I want you to try”, rumbles Thor solemnly. “I want to … I want to see. Feel if I feel it. Try it, love.”

With an awkward quirk of his heart Loki gulps noisily. It's like the warmth of the air has decided to curl and clump around his mouth, because suddenly it's really hard to breathe in here. Loki tastes their smell of sex from earlier, that smell of mutual triumph, because sex, that's something they understand to perform. Loki knows how to love under Thor.

It doesn't comfort him now.

There's angry fear of failure knotting his guts up. This is unreal. Thor doesn't even know what he's _talking_ about! No possible way will this ever, ever work, not in a thousand years. He'll disappoint them both.

Thor meanwhile hops up, rolling Loki out of their embrace. He eagerly settles cross legged and with a big, big grin on his face. And he looks so _annoyingly_ pure, naked as he is, broad and rippled with muscle strength, his heavy balls and lazy cock lying in his lap, his fists balled giddily on his knees, all bursting with excitement and – goodness, he's a man-child. Loki fell in love with a man-child. And that hill of a baby wants to be entertained.

Exasperatedly Loki stays where he rolled and only glares. Thor nods, encouraging him to get going.

“What, _now?_ ”

“Try it.”

“This is not going to fucking _work_ , Thor!”

“ _Try_ it. For me, come on!”

And to make it all worse, yes, Thor Odinson is actually bouncing his butt on the mattress, he's so excited. Loki groans with a defeated gesture.

“Ah Hel, FINE then! You blasted – WHAT would you have me do to you then, your _majesty_?”

Chuckling and with his eyes two very happy blinking slits, Thor shrugs. “Don't know. You decide.”

This is not getting better.

“And how are you going to _let_ me if you don't want to know WHAT to let me? Are you stupid or something?”

“I know I want to let you do to me whatever you like, you little beast.”

“That's not how this works.”

“Try it.”

“I don't even need to.”

“ _Love_.”

How inappropriate anyway, that such a man-child should be able to scold Loki into yielding like - ! Oh well, fuck it.

Groaning again, Loki wrestles himself up onto his knees. He's gripping Thor's shoulders for support and glares him in the eyes once they're face to face. It has Thor grin just more, what makes Loki only scowl deeper, the more Thor grins.

“I'll faint and you'll bawl because you made me. Joke's on you.”

“I trust you to stop in time.”

“And I'm tempted to give you a lesson.”

Shrugging dismissively, Thor adds: “Well, if you want to sleep through out little holiday … ”, with that _exact_ way of wit Loki himself taught him to use. The treachery!

Thinking his misery through, Loki takes a moment to frown and look into his thoughts for an answer to how to get out of this now. Last minute rescue. But he's like fishing in empty oceans right now ...

He is indignant at himself once he realizes how he's already searching for something on Thor, something to hook his magic fingers into and pull … because his soppy part is telling him he should at least _try_ , should he? Thor would be happy with that. And Loki wouldn't be defeated. He _told_ Thor it wouldn't work, did he. However, he would have been good enough to give it a go at least.

Just, when did Loki stop making things difficult for his brother?

 _I must be really loving you, you pesky oaf._ Regarding this sensitive topic Thor should consider himself lucky Loki already decided to admit that little truth to him through the magical flute he carved for his coronation day. Otherwise Loki would _totally_ have decided against telling him now again. Sullenly so.

Thor's breath hits Loki's temple in careful puffs. Loki, still grousing inwardly, thinks he must be looking like he's already thrown himself into the task.

While he really doesn't have a clue what to do.

Mmmh - maybe Thor would buy it if … ?

But Loki's palms are prickling with warmth on Thor's skin. And that contact, as it really comes through to him, gives Loki the shadow of a completely different idea. All at once aware of his own and his brother's bodies, like _really_ existing this instant in time and space, he feels Thor's shoulders flexing gently under his palms, feels his fingers giving an even gentler grab into that flexing under them. He feels another lazy aftertrail of his brother's seeds dribbling from between his cheeks. His pucker throbs. Remembering, back, back, back until when Thor touched him there today, only to touch. To anchor Loki in his sway of magic.

That touch helped Loki work his spell, it channeled its attention, so to speak … but what if he'd not draw a touch _into himself_ but rather _push it out_ into Thor? Because. Touch could be a door after all. Not just a booster.

Loki's heart does a flip, and he's even cautious only _thinking_ it: Asgard To Ragnarok – what if it _works_?

Assuming it could. Loki has a door now, leading him right into the core of that impenetrable fortress that is his brother's nature. A marked square of neurons and reflexes and instincts and characteristic resistance is waiting for him to be tricked into buying his goods.

What goods does Loki want to bring?

It must be something he dearly wants Thor to buy. That makes it all the more powerful.

Shuffling awkwardly in that sudden rage of excitement, Loki realizes all he really wants right now is to lie down again, curl safely back into his brother's arms. Loki wants Thor down in bed and he wants it with passion. He looks up into his brother's eyes. Thor meets him with teasing fondness first, then something like wonder. On how Thor's childlike smile is slowly falling to make way to awe Loki can read how his own determination must be pushing through the surface.

He pumps his fingers ever so gently on those shoulders again. With that done a gush of magic allows itself from the most cryptic pit of his mind and soul and body through his hands, passing the touch, into the first other rational being that is not himself Loki has ever invaded.

Overwhelmed, Thor gasps for air, his eyes unblinking and in Loki's – no, Loki's in his.

_Get down._

Loki feels Thor's shoulders tensing under his command, and just like their owner they don't bow so easily. He knew they wouldn't. That's what he tried to tell his brother.

Just now he means to unforgivingly haggle them over.

Thrusting himself into it Loki repeats himself with lure and might, _get down._

 _Why?_ , he feels every strong fibre of muscle ask him, and he moans under the blissful weight of this impossible conversation between himself and Thor's very essence. Intoxicated, Loki pushes _more_ of himself inside, into the spell, into the touch, into his brother - infects and conquers until he knows Thor will forever be marked by this.

A strangely timeless moment the world is a pulsating blur. Thor breathes heavier, and one heartbeat of wondering tells Loki, yes, Thor feels him in his his every vein. That same heartbeat surely tells Thor that, yes, this is what it always feels like for Loki to be with him. That glorious overpowering.

Those stubborn shoulders now, Loki knows he must give them a reason good enough to think they decide to be overpowered on their own.

 _Because you're tired_ , he tries to lull, _because you're sleepy, lazy, heavy, sated … down you go, lay down, relax. Let yourself be weak. Only the strong can be so weak ... you are so weak … so weak ..._

Thor gives a little whine.

And then it's happening.

With a startled look in his eyes the prince of Asgard, heir to the throne, slumps piece by piece as if taken apart by sleep into the sheets under him, the emerald fire of Loki's stare bringing him down. And Loki, clinging to him like to life itself, he's startled, too, and lets out something that must be a sound like that of frightened children sobbing. This is _happening_. He brought his brother down, the monument, the thunderstorm, oppressor much as he is lover – the man Loki loves most of all.

A terrible moment it feels like losing him to a fall into nothing. Another moment it feels like owning: Nine, Loki _fills him up,_ his magics coiling ferociously through Thor's system, through them both. The lower they go, the higher Loki means to tumble. He sobs again, but no, he's laughing. Thor's on his back under Loki's tight grip, gazing up like at stars exploding, and if gods could ever look like having seen an even greater god, this is how stricken it must look.

But it's okay now. Thor's just in bed and Loki, supporting his shaking and hovering body with his arms, gives those two obedient shoulders a teasing squeeze. Meanwhile the mischief in his blood wants to _scream_ \- as if all these years of being pushed into the dirt of the sparring grounds, with a cackle at his ear, like it was just a game, like it was not degrading him, as if it all payed off now for that grousy kid Loki has been.

“Fight me”, he dares and smirks. With that challenge he gets the usual twinkle back into his brother's eyes, because the day that Thor will be asked twice to scuffle about has yet to come.

Thusly grimacing with effort Thor tries to lift his arms from the sheets. They're shaking with force in only moments, but they're not moving from the spot. He's groaning, breaking into sweat, and Loki pants from an open mouth above him, mentally pushing down again what he asked to rebel: The wave of Thor's willpower collides with Loki's arcane might. Together they form fire lashing out at them from within, two forces on that battlefield only the passionate can learn to love. Thor gives it all he has, Loki knows it, senses it, and balling his fists convulsed with veins and knuckles bulging he nearly breaks loose – nearly.

Loki forbids it. Thor must obey.

The sheer madness of it. _Impossible_ , Loki thinks like a mantra, _I am doing the impossible_. Thor can't escape his grip, try as he may, and _Nine_ does he try. A rush of power overwhelms Loki and his vision blurs again. There's no such thing as Thor letting Loki anything now. He only welcomed him under his skin. Now that he's in Loki finds he can't be kicked out. He's a virus.

The swell of Loki's unforgiving essence in his body has Thor moan deliciously through the struggle; and Loki startles once he sees how much his brother's actually enjoying this being bested. Like Loki never knew the feel of winning, Thor must be completely new to this absolute fail. And it's exciting him. He downright latches on redoubling his force, only to be pushed down again. In the distant summer sky the rumble of a thunder galloping in on them makes the world a thick and wide and unreal place.

 _Impossible_ , Loki thinks like through fog as, once again, his brother fails to throw him off.

The ritual they make of it just too intense, Loki didn't realize he started to rhythmically rock his body in the air. His thighs and knees are hurting from how they're twisted and strained at Thor's side, but goodness does his every limb thrum, it's like he's bursting from within. His manhood juts up skywards, pushing his belly button in, throbbing and wet with joy, and Loki wonders how he takes note of it only now, but in this overworldly state it's one of _many_ his ends buzzing with life. This whole experience is _so, so much_ , though, is it any wonder he'd get off on it? He giggles hoarsely. Gasping each breath by now and dizzy with power he just so climbs into his brother's lap, undoes the pains in his legs, spreads them wide and straddles him with a sigh of relief.

Because _there_. There's his beloved, his brother's impossible size sliding up through his crack as he sits down. He knew it would be waiting for him, swollen forth to duties of higher forces than their both forces together. Groaning without restraints Loki squeezes his cheeks hard on the thick spear, wanting to feel all of it, even like this, not even yet where it belongs. Loki's fingers spread open on Thor's shoulders. He digs the heels of his hands into the jerking muscles under them.

At the contact with his cock already Thor yelped, now he gives a sobbing shout and pulls it into a needy whimper: The most beautiful thing Loki has ever heard him do. His chest is heaving and all red and sweat from that internal war he wants to fight but doesn't seem to want to win. Thor's body lies desperately bound to thrust his hips under Loki's butt, wants to impale and pump, to fuck the world apart - Loki forbids it. And Thor moans, saying something inarticulate with it – _brother, brother_ probably, maybe. His cock jumps between Loki's buttocks.

He is completely and utterly at Loki's mercy.

Touched by another shock of omnipotence Loki arches his back. A cascade of throbs darts through his pucker and he wills his opening to open just a little more again, and pressed against Thor's flesh oh is it eager to comply.

Wanting to cherish the moment, to even try and _grasp_ it, however, Loki stops himself. No question is his body hungry, but his mind is, too. Slowly he straightens himself, carefully stroking his hands away from their solid place on his brother's shoulders. Testing if his magic would break with the touch Loki leaves only his pointer fingers trailing snakes down Thor's chest to his navel. But it holds fast enough. Truly, right now Loki owns his brother whole. He could stand up and leave the room, Thor wouldn't go anywhere unless he set him free.

_Impossible indeed._

Breathing carefully Loki sits awestruck, gazing at his fingers. Then Thor's eyes. They never left him.

“Look at you”, Loki whispers amazed, shaking his head with a fond smile, “I didn't know I could do this.”

For the moment being he doesn't even know what to feel first, bewildered, smug or rather grateful his darling oaf of a brother managed to make him see the worth of his magics like that. Part of him wants to rejoice, part wants to curl up, hide and sleep somewhere where he's safe.

Another part wants to ravish Thor, neck and crop.

Thor breaks into a fierce grin for him. His eyes shine like fever would have them. “ _I_ knew”, he says. Simply.

“I know.”

Looking down to his majestic, vulnerable brother, Loki shudders, he shudders so much. The roar of his magics, connecting them, is swaying gentler now. How Thor is able to not be scared, though. Loki could do – _anything_. But isn't this naive degree of trust perfectly mirroring his own display of the same thing today? It's reassuring, really, all they do today, that somehow earnestly, written in whatever Norn's book, they silly brothers are just meant for each other.

Biting his lip in a smirk Loki notes he's getting sappy again. But he sits on Thor proudly. Like every queen should, the only one to ever mount the king.

Time to seal the matter with a celebration. Seductively, Loki bends down, one fluid movement, and cups Thor's face with both his palms and strokes his cheeks lovingly. Kissing him slow and deep he pushes his bum back hard into Thor's manhood like it stood there as a pillar to support the crushing weight of their lust.

Grunting, whining and downright sucking Loki into their kiss Thor suffers a great deal under the teasing – and he still won't be allowed to move, the poor.

“Shhh-shhhh ...”, Loki shushes him. Only to catch Thor's whining mouth in another kiss, an excruciatingly airy one, teasing with how he won't allow Thor's head to move too high and come for Loki to devour him.

“Love, I, _need_ , do – something - “, stammers Thor, and Loki feels a blast of mercy rumbling with the chuckles in his chest.

“It's alright, shush”, he purrs against Thor's trembling lips. And then, enjoying everything of it, feeling the bend, the soft strain of his muscles, veins, the shifting of bones, _magics_ , Loki reaches down behind himself with a long arm. Grabbing his brother's pulsing shaft from between his cheeks and tilting his hips a great deal up Loki smears the monster down his cleft to tease his own hole with the thick head of it. A gush of leak squirts into him. He wets them both thoroughly up with it, his fingers playing for a little longer that his brother dear can bear.

“Get down”, Thor finally growls against Loki's tongue.

And Loki smirks. His moan rolls low and full into Thor's mouth. He thinks this one wish shall be granted.

 

 

 

***

 

 

 

What Thor loved most about it, as Loki learns later with his brother's fingers carding through his hair, is that knowing he could be subdued he wouldn't ever have to fear to hurt Loki again.

 

 

 

***

 

 

 

That night, Loki has a dream. She knows she always wondered, secretly, that if Thor's eyes are blue and his cloak is red, why should not she have eyes red like rubies, always looking just for him, and why should not her skin clothe her in blue so that he'd always find her?

 _But where would my green go then?_ , she wonders, and the thought does scare her as she's always been just green. Thor knows Loki is green. Would he ever recognize her if he finally, finally found her with his eyes?

But there is magic, she reminds herself. Loki's green would always be her magic. That insight calms her down.

Loki wants to make a child for her and for her love. So she takes grapes that are blue and she takes grapes that are red. She walks up a hill of snow like on clouds, and the soles of her bare feet don't freeze … or is it not a hill but a clearing, and is that light that snows from flowers up into the sky? Somewhere here, Loki muses in the back of her mind, stands her little house. That's where she's going.

On her way she weighs the grapes in her palms, uncertain first if the child should have this color or that or one of both, but then Loki decides to smile. Silly her, forgot her green again! The magic is Loki is free. So with the ghost of her breath sparkling emerald, the breath that she laughs into the chill, she pours the grapes into the snow, she mixes blue with red, swirls them with her pointer fingers (and they melt, the colors and the snow, the bed of flowers melts under her touch, it gives two little brooding pools for what little wonders she's cooking up, blue and red and blue and red cradled by the green of her magic, and the magic in the snow) ... like this Loki makes purple.

Purple eyes for their child.

She cannot wait to braid the darling's hair into braids that bind together father's light and mother's night.

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, I hope you liked what you read. I for my part listened to wayyyy too much of Tarja's "O come, o come Emmanuel" writing the last third. That's when things went into that epic craze somehow lol.
> 
> Next chapter will be a short one, so it shouldn't take all that long. Know that Odin is going to commit one of his fabled A+ Parenting crimes again. Because the boys need one final drama, a last push to get them where I want them to be. 
> 
> Hope you give me a sign, lovelies ~


	38. AUTHOR'S NOTE

Alright, just skip the drama. I'm over myself but want to keep the eternally lovely comments, so I'm keeping this shit ass chapter.

 

***

 

Hello and thank you and forgive me, dear readers. This is a final message and a collective one as I am too ashamed to answer everyone who spent their energy in writing amazing comments on this, so.

I've had the worst time of my life so far lately, and I am financially destroyed so to speak, there's too much going on for me to find the words really, and this should not bother any of you but I am so self centered that I need to shout something out.

Long story short: I stop writing altogether. And really this time.

There's just no way I'll find _time_ for it anymore, and every once I would have time I'd be too exhausted to get inspired, it's all work, work, work now and well, that's it. Your heart may break - if it doesn't earn you money it's a waste of time: That's what life is fucking into my brain right now.

I'm sorry. At least no one's existence depends on what silly stories I came up with here. For what you all said and invested in this fic which lasted, let's admit it, WAY too long anyway to be any kind of interesting anymore, I am so thankful and so sorry and just, well, overly dramatic about some unfinished cheesy fanfiction, which in itself is crucially ridiculous. I don't even know why I'm actively bothering you with this, what is this, a cyber death note of my inner angst-smut author? Could have just never logged in again. But that's not me. I am a diva.

Goodbye, darlings. I'll let this online for a little from now and then I think I'll just delete my account. I've always hated things unfinished.

Wish you all the best,

Bee


	39. AUTHOR'S NOTE (again, so sorry)

Alright, just skip the drama. I'm over myself but want to keep the eternally lovely comments, so I'm keeping this shit ass chapter.

 

***

 

 

Okay. So aside from me wishing AO3 would just finally invent some kind of private messaging system or so - here I am, I've had a fuck of a stressful week like, _fuck_ , most of you probably had, too, just mine was maybe a little bit worse I guess, and I am leaning back right now for a moment, cringing at my last drama update on here. And now I'm reading your beautiful comments and I am actually bawling, but I had it coming with how I made myself sound like I'd be jumping into the ocean with stones in my pockets or something. You guys and your comments. I feel like an undeserving hoe who did it all for the attention now (though, I think I didn't, I was just really, really, really down, you see) and I'm so not deserving your comfort and your thoughts and your caring, I'm sure. But I love it anyway. So much. So - _damn_ you. I'm sorry and I love you. If I had it in me right now I would write you all a novel of a reply, but I am overwhelmed, forgive me. And okay, you won me over, I will stay. I will try to come around again and write again. Even though I have to say that might not be too easy in my actual situation. There will be time passing between the chapters I'll post. More time than before. And I really don't see why you should want to stick around for that shit, but then again, I guess it's worth a try.

On my other fanfiction I was asked to start a patreon, by the way, so people could buy me some more time to write. I'm totally stunned by that idea but I don't feel it's right. I don't want to sponge on you and anyway, I already imagine myself sued because of copyright stuff and wow do I not need another money noose around my neck at the moment. I'll write for free, like I always did, whenever I find the time.

However, if you really mean to help me out there's always the way of just dropping a coin in my PayPal, like not for the fic itself but because you want to support me as a person. I think it's no big secret anymore that I'm in constant financial distress which gets better and worse and better again, only this time it nearly snapped my neck really. If you think you can and want to spare a little donation then, that would help me out, and dear lord, I am desperate enough right now to even consider this. You hear me. This is my PayPay e-mail, if anyone should want to know.

noneforjoy@web.de

I ought to remind you that (LOL the thought alone is funny) if I should ever find a sum that I deem too high for a virtual cuppa I would collapse shrieking on the spot, crying with gratefulness until I dissolved into a puddle of tears, and then I'd send the money right back to you, acting offended. Hoping you'd know I  _am_  not offended, only too morally well raised to take anything for granted.

Thank you so much for putting up with me.  
I'm horrible and so self centered I must stink.

 

 

  
OH and by the way. Do you guys have any sort of social media? I am a complete Pfosten with those but I could try to just open a plain account somewhere where you could connect with me. Better than here, like FCK you AO3, a messaging system from user to user, is that too much to ask for?? Well, wherever you people are all lurking around if not here, I'd put out little sneak peaks of new material so you would know I'm working on something. If it doesn't eat my whole 24/7 lifespan I think I could handle that. Ideas?


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